


This Garden of Earthly Delight

by the_angel_zachriel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: All of the Chapters Titles Are Melodrama Names, And they fall in love really easily, Angels are capable of hate, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Met Before The Fall (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Demotion, Beelzebub Not Being an Asshole, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's Angel Name was Jeremiel, Demons are capable of love, Eventual Sex, Excessive use of italics, F/M, Feather-plucking, Fluff, Former Cherub Aziraphale (Good Omens), Former Virtue Crowley (Good Omens), Gabriel Not Being An Asshole (Good Omens), Gabriel is a good boss, Gabriel is surprisingly soft to Beelzebub and Aziraphale, God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Hastur is an asshole, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Bureaucracy (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), It's problematic because they're supposed to be evil, M/M, Making Love, Michael and Sandalphon are big time assholes, Mutual Pining, Original Angel Character(s) - Freeform, Other, Punishment, Raphael uses she/her pronouns, Sandalphon bullies Aziraphale, Sandalphon likes to pick fights with Aziraphale, Self-Harm, She's a lovely lady-shaped angel, Slight Canon Divergence, Snake Crowley, Soft Beelzebub (Good Omens), Soft Gabriel (Good Omens), Solitary Confinement, Star-building, Torture, Traumatized Aziraphale (Good Omens), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, author is a dumbass, aziraphale's true form, demotion, implied rape, memory wiping, raphael is NOT crowley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:41:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27289561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_angel_zachriel/pseuds/the_angel_zachriel
Summary: Heaven has abused the Disgraced Cherub Aziraphale. His former lover (whom he cannot remember) was framed, and subsequently became a part of the Fallen. His failures in Eden have resulted in a gory demotion from Cherub to Principality.Crowley didn't mean to Fall. He just hung around the wrong people. Hell abused him and wiped his memories of his former lover in Heaven.But God's not going to let them get separated that easily.Alternative Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley (known as Jeremiel in Heaven) were lovers in Heaven before things went awry. God ships them too much to allow them to be apart and plays an ineffable game to draw them together. Gabriel and Beelzebub like to casually hangout. Crowley and Aziraphale are way more soft than is depicted in canon.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Gabriel (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Beelzebub & Dagon (Good Omens), Beelzebub/Gabriel (Good Omens), Crowley & Hastur (Good Omens), Disposable Demon/Original Angel Character (Good Omens), Hastur & Ligur & Michael (Good Omens), Hastur & Ligur (Good Omens), Hastur/Michael (Good Omens), Ligur/Michael (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. All That Heaven Allows

**Author's Note:**

> This work features one of my ocs--The Cherub Zachriel. If you'd like to check out art of him, he's on my instagram @good_moomins_59 . He's actually my profile picture, and I love him :)

Virtue Jeremiel (Crowley)

Though there is no time in Heaven, at some point the angels will have adopted a time system from the humans. It’s convenient to use time--it’s organized. Angels enjoy being organized after all. 

If time existed in Heaven, we would say the world  _ ‘currently’ _ to describe the events of three angels walking down the hallways of Heaven. The three of them are Virtues, which can be described as the one of the most beautiful choir of angels with the most beautiful jobs. Virtues are located in the middle of the second sphere, associated with stars, planets, elements, changing seasons, and nature to name a few. They are about to receive orders for their next operation. These particular three angels are often charged with creating stars--they were the best at it. 

The first Virtue is Araton, angel of Might. He appears well-built, somewhat short but strong nonetheless. He had short, spiky golden hair with baby blue eyes

The second Virtue is Raziel, who had shoulder length brown locks which were often tied up in a bun with light green eyes and freckles.

Virtue Jeremiel, angel of Mercy, is the third. He was thin and had long red hair. His eyes were brown with little flecks of gold embedded in them. He had a signature white bracelet coiled around his wrist in the shape of a snake. He looked different when compared to his friends, but a part of that was because Jeremiel  _ was _ different. He sauntered while his companions trudged, he was kind where his companions were rough. And he enjoyed asking questions.  _ Lots _ of questions. 

The Virtue Jeremiel walked down the sterile hallways, cringing at how cold the floor was beneath his feet. The main office was always colder than the rest of Heaven, and though cold feet made him miserable, it didn’t stop him from loving the place. As an angel should. 

But If the ceiling were high enough, he would definitely be flying right now. Nevermind that though. 

Instead his wings were relaxed on his back behind him--pearly white and beautiful. His secret? Sometimes he preened them by himself when no one was looking. Preening your own wings was taboo, as it was considered vanity. But Araton was too rough with him and Raziel often missed more than just a few spots. If Jeremiel had other friends, maybe he would partake in group-preening more often. That was the issue though, making friends. Jeremiel often found it hard to reach out to other angels. Not hard to see why though, everyone mostly stayed in their own circles. 

“Where are we going today, Raziel?” Araton asked the angel beside him, his voice gravelly and hushed. It broke Jeremiel from his trance, focusing once more on the expanse of hallway in front of them. 

“They want us to start building a new one I think. Alpha Centauri they’re calling it. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a little tired of going out into space. Stars are quite tiring to build and space is just...space. Endless and miserably dark.” Raziel sighed, giving a hopeless shrug. 

“Well...personally I like building them. They’re  _ warm _ , not to mention beautiful.” Jeremiel stated, longing for the warmth of the stars. His feet weren’t getting any warmer in Heaven--that’s for certain. 

“Always the romantic, Jeremiel, always the romantic.” Araton teased with a slightly condescending tone in his voice. The three of them stopped talking when they heard the sound of bare feet slapping against the floor. 

Approaching them was a frantic individual, his head bowed timidly and his wings trailing behind him on the floor. 

“Virtue Raziel, Virtue Araton, Virtue Jeremiel.” The trembling angel greeted, eyes flitting from individual to individual. 

“Principality Musamiel. Where’s the Archangel Gabriel?” Araton greeted curtly. Musamiel looked to the floor. 

“H-he’s quite busy. They asked me to deliver your orders in his place.” 

“Calm down, Musamiel. It’s okay.” Jeremiel urged, keeping his voice calm and comforting. The Principality nodded, daring to make eye contact with Jeremiel. And from then on he only looked Jeremiel in the eyes, too anxious to look at the buffer angels. 

“I was asked to tell you to continue your work with the stars, you’re starting a new project. Here are the...the coordinates.” Musamiel stepped forward, extending a trembling piece of paper to them. There were a few numbers scrawled onto it and Gabriel’s own signature. Raziel took it and examined them. The Principality’s eyes were still on Jeremiel, expectantly.

“Thank you, Musamiel. You can go now.” Jeremiel said kindly to the Principality, watching as relief came to relax Musamiel’s figure. He scurried off, leaving the Virtues to depart for their destination. 

“That Musamiel--always jumping about and stuttering his words. What an eyesore.” Araton scoffed, a ‘ _ holier-than-thou _ ’ expression on his face. Jeremiel felt the urge to smack him hidden in the back of his mind. Yes, Musamiel was anxious. That didn’t make them better than him in any way, shape, or form. Their only difference was in rank and power, not fundamentally. 

“I overheard some other Principalities talking about him,” Raziel began thoughtfully, his voice began to sadden, “they think he’s going to Fall.” 

“Really? I mean, sure, he’s flighty, anxious, but he’s done nothing wrong.” Jeremiel replied in disbelief. The three Virtues stepped into a gate and found themselves flapping their wings through space, stars flickering about them. Despite the glory of this bright sight, ahead was a blackness, desperately calling for Jeremiel and the other Virtues to fill it with stars. 

“Hasn’t done anything wrong  _ yet _ .” Araton corrected ominously. Jeremiel glanced over at him and saw a horrible mischief glittering in his eyes. The two buff Virtues exchanged momentary glances of knowing and looked back to the red haired angel. 

“Jeremiel, can you start building for us please? There’s something we must discuss.” Raziel requested politely to which he nodded in reply. For as much as he disliked Araton, Raziel was an alright fellow. Raziel could be trusted. 

Raziel could be trusted. 

Jeremiel wanted to believe that. He truly did. But as he looked back at the two of them, chatting away, he felt unsettled by them both. 

“Don’t let me down, Raziel. You’re not like Araton.” Jeremiel muttered to himself, gathering energy for the first star. 

He thought about something called  _ The Plan _ . He had a great imagination--but it only got him so far when it came to  _ The Plan _ . He had many questions about it--none that his companions could answer. He’d need to seek some higher level angels to get more intel. Though he didn’t personally know any who wouldn’t rat on him if he asked the  _ wrong _ questions.

He looked back at Raziel and Araton again to find they were staring dead at him. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Virtue Jeremiel (Crowley)

Jeremiel was strolling around with no particular destination in mind when he saw two Cherubim sitting idly in the courtyard staring at a fountain. The statue on top of the fountain was of Gabriel--holy water flowing out of his horn and splashing into the basin below. The paths paved through the courtyard were marble, and a pleasant shade of light grey. The cold feeling of it beneath his feet was, however, not so pleasant. 

He approached the Cherubim slowly--he had never spoken to a Cherub before, but he recognized one of them. The one he recognized was named Zachriel who was tall and lanky, his human head had slicked back black hair and chartreuse coloured eyes . 

Cherubim were not exactly ugly creatures, but they were indeed hard to look at sometimes. They had four heads (that of a man, ox, eagle, and lion), two pairs of arms, two pairs of wings, and multiple eyes dotting their human face. Their halos hung beautifully above their heads, shining like anything. They were angels from the first sphere, or the highest sphere rather. Cherubim protected places of incredible holiness, though there wasn’t much for them to protect as of yet. Like most of the angels in the lowest sphere, Cherubim were somewhat vegitative, without much a purpose yet. In time they would have more work to do. 

Jeremiel looked at the other Cherub, who was shorter with a little bit of roundness to his soft looking belly. His eyes were an attractive shade of blue and his hair was white and curly.  _ The Other Cherub _ was the softest creature he’d ever seen and Jeremiel immediately felt fondness for him. 

The Virtue cleared his throat to announce his presence to the Cherubim who turned their heads to look at the source.

“Virtue Jeremiel.” Zachriel greeted, “what can we do for you?” 

Now that Jeremiel had approached them, he didn’t really have any idea what to say. He looked from Zachriel’s tired expression to  _ The Other Cherub _ ’s fond one. 

“Er...well I’m curious about some things.” Jeremiel began to which Zachriel rolled his eyes and  _ The Other Cherub _ smiled. 

“Oh? Come, sit my dear.”  _ The Other Cherub _ replied, patting the space between him and Zachriel. Jeremiel cautiously approached the pair and sat between them. He felt delighted by being called a  _ dear _ . 

“Now. What is it you’re curious about?”  _ The Other Cherub  _ asked, all four of his heads attentive to Jeremiel. It was a little overwhelming--at least Zachriel only had one of them focused on him.

“The Plan.” 

The human heads of Zachriel and  _ The Other Cherub _ exchanged glances.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Cherub Aziraphale

“If he keeps asking questions like that, he’s gonna Fall.” Zachriel stated, watching as the Virtue named Jeremiel sauntered off. Aziraphale smiled at the unique sashaying of hips, knowing in his heart that it wouldn’t be the last he’d see of Jeremiel. 

“It’s not the questions that are harmful,” Aziraphale reminded him, “but the doubt that comes with them. The doubt of Her.” 

“Same difference.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes at his brother’s ignorance. He loved Zachriel, but he could be quite insensitive at times. 

“Jeremiel won’t Fall,” Aziraphale said, mostly to himself, “he’s a good angel. I can feel it.” 

“We’re all good--that’s the point. There just comes a point where a little bit of that good ebbs away. And for some of the Fallen--it started with questioning  _ The Plan _ . Any  _ good _ angel doesn’t question  _ The Plan _ .” 

For Aziraphale, the words Zachriel had just spoken would haunt him for a long time to come.

“Don’t be so foolish, Zachriel. Even  _ you _ ask questions sometimes.”

Zachriel smiled a little bit, which was a rare sight. Aziraphale had known Zachirel for as long as he had existed--for they had come into existence together. They were brothers in a way (technically angels didn’t have siblings but Zachriel and Aziraphale found themselves ignoring this technicality) and they hung around each other despite their differences. At any rate, it was hard to make friends with angels outside of pre-established circles. Hard for Aziraphale, who didn’t exactly fit in. He was often criticized for his odd habits and how soft he was--how gentle he was with angels of lower choirs.

Zachriel was the only angel he knew who didn’t criticize him. Zachriel was always too lost in thought to belittle him, and quite frankly he didn’t care to. Bullying other angels wasn’t exactly in his job description, especially not his own brother. 

But this newcomer, Jeremiel, was interesting. Aziraphale barely knew him and already he felt fond of the Virtue. Jeremiel was different just like he was--he had an awareness that Aziraphale shared. Other angels either lacked this awareness or suppressed it. 

Either way, it wasn’t the last they would see of the Virtue. 

\----------------------------------------------------------

Cherub Aziraphale

There was a trial.

Now Aziraphale stood in his choir, amongst all his fellow Cherubs. Amongst the whole of the Heavenly choirs. His many eyes scanned the entirety of the room. All choirs--until he spotted Jeremiel in the Virtue choir. The Virtue seemed troubled, his eyes constantly flitting from two other Virtues--Araton and Raziel. Aziraphale knew the three of them were friends--worked together. Sort of like Aziraphale and Zachriel. Their own pre-established circle. 

A Principality was being evaluated to see if he was still worthy of Heaven. And if not--then he would certainly Fall. But there was one problem that Aziraphale had--and he was mystified that the other Cherubim had not mentioned it yet.

He could not sense God’s presence as they prepared to open the trial. And She was supposed to be present. She was the ultimate judge, the one who decided whether or not angels fell. Usually if they didn’t fall by her judgement, the archangels would think of a proper punishment. 

The doors opened and the Principality Musamiel stepped in--he looked absolutely awful. He was trembling more than usual and he had a few bruises on his form. Aziraphale turned one of his heads--his human head--to Zachriel. 

“Where is  _ She _ .” He mumbled to him nervously. Zachriel’s ox head turned to reply. 

“You didn’t get the memo? She doesn’t take charge of these anymore.”

“ _ What? _ ” 

“Silence, Cherub Aziraphale.” Gabriel warned from the stage above him. So Aziraphale closed his mouths and focused his eyes back on the Principality in question. Musamiel was not looking at the Archangels though, he was staring in horror at the Virtue choir.

He was staring--absolutely terrified expression--at Araton. 

Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to focus on the trial at hand. There were too many troubling thoughts. Too many horrible implications of the lack of  _ Her _ presence in the courtroom. 

Aziraphale felt a disgusting, swirling feeling in his stomach. The trial went on around him while he desperately rooted for his fellow angel. When it came time for the choirs to confer amongst themselves in private, he pleaded for his fellow Cherubim to vote ‘ _ Not guilty _ ’. Within the fogginess of Aziraphale’s current mental state, another Cherub turned to him, ice in her eyes. 

“You’re always asking us to vote this way Aziraphale, even when  _ She _ ran this operation.”

“I don’t want anyone to Fall,” He replied with tears in his eyes, “not for little things like this. They’re our brothers and sisters too,  _ The Fallen _ , that is.” 

“ _ Not anymore, Aziraphale. If you keep saying such traitorous things...you will Fall too.”  _ All of this Cherub’s heads had spoken in unison. 

“Leave him alone. We should all mourn our Fallen brethren and sistren.” Zachriel’s voice protested in the background of all of Aziraphale’s sense. The cruel Cherub glared in his brother’s direction and shook her human head. 

So it was that the Principality Musamiel fell from Heaven.

After the trial, after the Fall of the Angel Musamiel, Aziraphale overheard a conversation outside the courtroom. Ducking behind a marble pillar, he peeked at the Virtues Araton and Raziel. There was something off about them. He could sense it. 

“Why don’t we let Jeremiel in on it?” Raziel suggested, his eyes shaded with regret. Still, there was hope in his voice when he mentioned his comrade’s name.

“Nah, he’s too content with making stars--and probably wouldn’t agree to nothin’ anyway.” Araton sniffed in contempt. Raziel sighed and folded his arms.

“You’ve changed Araton. What happened to the Araton that enjoyed strolling through Heaven with Jeremiel and I? The one that _liked_ making stars?”   
“Hastur happened, that's what.” Araton replied, his nose wrinkling at the prospect of whomever this individual was. The name was foreign to Aziraphale, but he made a mental note to avoid them should he come across them.

“You can’t let the bloke treat you like this, you’re a  _ Virtue _ .”

“And  _ you _ don’t understand why I have to let him!” Araton finally snapped, emotions filling his eyes, “I  _ knew _ him before…”

“Oh. Oh  _ Araton _ . I didn’t know.” Raziel replied while lifting his hand to touch the other’s shoulder. Araton shook his head. 

“I’m upset that I brought  _ you _ into it. We don’t need to bring Jeremiel in on it as well.”

Aziraphale was confused, his heads still spinning from the trial. His first reaction to this conversation was the sudden desire to seek out the lower angel he had talked to earlier. Throughout the trial, it appeared that Jeremiel had been going through the same thought process as Aziraphale--his face twisted in horror when it was the Archangel Micheal that let Musamiel fall and not  _ Her _ . 

“I suppose you’re right. But I think he’s getting suspicious.”

Raziel nodded. Araton’s eyes darkened suddenly--two of Aziraphale’s heads swallowing in discomfort at the change of Araton’s tone. 

“There may come a time when he too...will…” The Virtue trailed off. Suddenly Raziel’s eyes widened in realization of where his companion’s thoughts were going. 

“Araton! No! Not Jeremiel...he is our  _ friend _ .” 

The Cherub decided not to listen to the conversation any longer, as for some inexplicable reason, it disturbed him. So instead he sought out Zachriel--much as his fellow Cherub was grumpy and rude sometimes, it was better than listening to another word of whatever... _ this _ ...was. 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cherub Aziraphale

Aziraphale was sitting with his usual companion on the soft, cloud-like ground outside their assigned area. They were ‘ _ guarding _ ’ a building whilst a meeting took place inside. In Aziraphale’s opinion, Heaven did not need guards within it. But as a Cherub, or as an angel in general, he did not question his position.

A familiar figure was sauntering towards them. Smooth red hair, brown eyes tinted with gold. A white snake bracelet was lightly bouncing on his wrist. 

“Virtue Jeremiel. There’s a meeting going on inside, you will have to wait until it’s over to have access to this facility.” Zachriel informed the approaching angel. Jeremiel rolled his eyes at them. 

“I didn’t come to go in there. I came to talk to you two featherheads.” Jeremiel responded, gesturing to their four pairs of wings. Aziraphale looked down sheepishly at the second pair of wings hiding his nakedness and the second pair of arms which held them in place. Aziraphale’s companion--however--kept all of his gazes on Jeremiel. 

“Don’t you have stars to be building?” Came Zachriel again. 

“Just like you, I get breaks sometimes.” 

“Then why don’t you use it for something more useful than bothering us? Like praying or helping other angels.” 

“Zachriel!” Aziraphale began with an exasperated scoff, “there is nothing wrong with Jeremiel speaking with us. In fact, I rather like his company. Sit beside me dear boy.” 

Jeremiel smirked in satisfaction taking a seat next him, Zachriel rolling his eyes. Aziraphale shot the other Cherub a look of warning before turning his human head to face Jeremiel. 

“To what do we owe your  _ lovely _ presence?” Aziraphale asked, sincere love in his voice. Jeremiel blushed, looking down for a moment and then looked up to meet the many eyes of Aziraphale’s True Form. 

“I’ve come to ask more questions.” Jeremiel replied, prompting a huff of irritation from Zachriel. 

“Stop it with the questions! You keep asking, and you’ll  _ Fall _ .” 

“Zachriel,  _ please _ .” Aziraphale pleaded with a relatively vex tone. His own way of berating the other Cherub, he supposed. Though Zachriel’s human face looked genuinely worried when their eyes met. Aziraphale softened and nodded to his brother in understanding. 

“I don’t understand what’s so problematic about asking questions. I just wanna know how everything works.” Jeremiel said, his voice quiet. Aziraphale’s expression melted in sympathy at this and took Jeremiel’s hand prompting a fresh spill of crimson to stain the Virtue's cheeks. 

“It’s not the questions, but the doubt of  _ Her _ that they bring, dear Jeremiel. Ask away, and I shall try my best to answer you.” 

“Well…” Jeremiel began, recovering from the flush feelings he had felt when the Cherub had taken his hand, “what’s...what’s Hell like?” 

Both Aziraphale and Zachriel gasped, one gasp of surprise the other indignant. 

“That is a  _ treacherous  _ question! You could Fall if--”

“Dear boy, _why_ , pray tell, do you want to know about... _that_...place?” Aziraphale interrupted, his voice soft and concerned. Jeremiel gulped, brown eyes wide and flitting from Aziraphale to Zachriel and back again.   
“It’s just...Musamiel.” Jeremiel replied, tears beginning to spill from his eyes. 

Both Cherubim heaved heavy sighs of relief at this. He was just worried about the poor Fallen Principality. And if Aziraphale was honest--which he was of course, he’s an  _ angel _ \--he was worried about him too. 

“Maybe you should have worded your question differently.” Zachriel muttered, his icy eyes glaring into Jeremiel’s. Aziraphale shrugged in noncommittal agreement. 

“Musamiel...is very likely suffering right now.” Aziraphale began carefully. 

“But he was a traitor...though we mourn the loss of our brothers, it is that fate that has been chosen for them.” Zachriel finished. Aziraphale saw horror and loss growing rapidly in Jeremiel’s eyes. 

“Oh n--oh no, Jeremiel. It’s okay my dear.” The Cherub soothed, pulling the Virtue into a tight hug as he began to sob. Aziraphale stroked his head comfortingly, Jeremiel’s sobbed muffled by the soft chest beneath him. 

“He didn’t do anything wrong...he was just…” Jeremiel tried to speak, though his words were almost unintelligible. 

“Well...somewhere along the lines he did.” Zachriel’s ox head snorted, prompting a very pointed glare from Aziraphale. The other Cherub met it and looked away, preferring not to rouse Aziraphale’s wrath. 

“Jeremiel...I’d like to think that...at the very least Lucifer is treating his  _ Fallen _ well. I never personally knew him while he was still in Heaven...but the  _ Fallen _ are his comrades. And treating a bunch of rebellious comrades horribly...doesn’t sound like a good idea. They’ll just rebel again.” Aziraphale rambled, rubbing Jeremiel’s back and trying his best to make his voice soothing. Truth is, Aziraphale had no idea what was going on  _ down there _ . He only knew that he loved every angel...and because he loved them all, he wanted to soothe the one currently weeping on his shoulder. 

“Ye-yeah...comrades. I...say...what’s your name?” Jeremiel asked, desperate eyes met with Aziraphale’s own loving ones.

“Oh it’s Azi--” 

The doors that the angels were sitting in front of opened and the Cherubs were beckoned in quickly for business. This left Jeremiel with only part of a name.

“Azi--Azi what?” He called, but the doors shut before Aziraphale could turn to say the rest.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jeremiel (Crowley)

Azi.  _ Azi _ .

Azi...and there was something afterwards, right? Then again, he could very well get away with just calling the Cherub by that name fragment. It was a pet name--er--nickname. Jeremiel liked nicknames, even if some of the ones he came up with were uncreative. 

He hadn’t seen the Cherub for a while, and it was only today he decided to actively seek  _ Azi _ out instead of waiting for fate to have them run into each other.

He found the Cherub sitting in the courtyard again, but this time he was alone. He was sitting at the edge of the Gabriel fountain, a hand gently smoothing over the water in a repetitive waving motion. 

“What’cha doin’ there Azi?” Jeremiel asked him, approaching the other angel with a small smile on his face. All four heads turned to him, the Cherub’s ‘human’ mouth immediately matching Jeremiel’s smile.

“Hello dear. You seem in significantly better spirits today.” Azi replied, human head watching as Jeremiel took a seat beside him on the fountain’s ledge. 

“Yea, I guess. I was hoping to run into you actually.” Jeremiel said whilst looking at their reflections in the holy water. Azi’s eagle head tilted in curiosity. 

“Oh? Have more questions?” 

Jeremiel looked up to meet the many eyes of Azi’s human face and shook his head. The Cherub’s eyebrow quirked upward in his own question. 

“No...the only questions I  _ might _ have are about you personally. I just...I think we get on, right? Kinda wanted to see you.”

A flush of red seeped into the Cherub’s cheeks as his smile grew. 

“Of course we... _get_ _on_ , Jeremiel.” Azi smiled, both pairs of his hands clasped together over his second pair of wings (which were like clothes to Cherubim--the equivalent of having his hands clasped over his stomach). Jeremiel had to look away again, feeling heat rise to his own cheeks. 

“Where’s Zachriel? You guys are usually together.” He asked in an attempt to distract himself from the feeling of fondness spreading over his chest. 

“Well--he’s certainly my brother--and sometimes I have to take a break from him to um...learn to appreciate him more?” 

Jeremiel and all of Azi’s heads laughed at this, the Virtue trying his hardest to nod in understanding.

“S-so...so,” Azi panted, trying to catch his breath. He swallowed, finally able to speak, “how are you doing with the stars?” 

Jeremiel was delighted that Azi had the consideration to ask. Cherubim were four choirs above Virtues and usually considered the work of ‘ _ lower angels _ ’ to be boring and relatively meaningless. 

But Azi was different--that’s why he was originally ‘ _ The Other Cherub _ ’. 

“It’s great actually er...well they’re calling my current work Alpha Centauri. It’s remarkable so far...but well...I uh...I can’t really even describe it with words. You’d have to see it to know what I’m talking about.” Jeremiel shrugged. 

“Then take me to see it.” The lion head growled, startling Jeremiel. He had never heard any of Azi’s other heads speak before. 

“Hush you.” Azi scolded himself, smiling sheepishly when he turned his human face back to Jeremiel. 

“Hush you?” Jeremiel teased, eyebrows raised high in amusement. Azi rolled the many eyes of his human face. 

“The lion head likes to speak of my fervent desires.” 

Delight. All Jeremiel could feel was delight. Well...something else maybe. He couldn’t place his finger on it. Either way he couldn’t get enough of _this_ _one_. The other angel had a casual curiosity in his work...he _desired_ to see it, and that made an even bigger difference between him and the other Cherubim. All the other angels even. 

“ _ Fervent _ ? Why is a Cherub’s fervent desire to see the stars some low  _ Virtue _ made?” 

The greater angel looked slightly offended, even though the brunt of Jeremiel’s comment was more directed to himself. 

“You are not  _ low _ , Jeremiel. These titles don’t mean anything...at the end of the day we’re all lovely creatures, aren’t we? But um...that aside. I’ve always wanted to see the stars.” The Cherub insisted. Jeremiel couldn’t help but smile brightly. 

“Then I’ll take you. To see them.” 

“I would like that very much.” Azi’s ox head replied--a silky voice of domestic tranquility. A warm flush rose to Jeremiel’s face and this time he didn’t try to hide it. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jeremiel (Crowley)

“I like that one.” Azi said decidedly, “out of all the ones here...I think this one is my favorite.”

After quite a long while of meeting with Azi (and Zachriel most of the time), Jeremiel had finally followed through on his promise to take his Cherub friend to Alpha Centauri. The two of them had grown closer and closer. Each time they visited with one another they left a lasting impression of fondness that felt like it would exist for all of eternity. 

Jeremiel looked at the star that Azi was currently talking about. It was a small red star, not as warm or as bright as the others. It was the picture of imperfection compared to the other stars around it. 

“Really?  _ That  _ one?” Jeremiel scoffed, “there are so many stars here--bigger and brighter. What about--”

“It’s color reminds me of your hair.” Azi commented softly as he moved closer to it. He reached his hand out as if to touch it—though he didn’t. Slowly he retracted the hand and placed it to his chest.

_ Oh. _

“Er...ye-yeah. I guess it is similar.” Jeremiel managed to choke out. Azi turned to face him. 

It was then that Jeremiel realized how  _ perfect _ this Cherub was. Azi’s expression was that of pure joy and bliss. Love and fondness. It made Jeremiel’s  _ imperfect _ (when did he start thinking that way about himself?) insides squirm with...what could only be described as delight. They moved closer to one another, small dots of angelic essence on the vast expanse of space. Jeremiel felt the urge to reach out for his Cherub companion though restrained himself. 

Azi’s lion head roared all of the sudden. It was loud and right in Jeremiel’s ears. It sounded like all of space could hear it. 

“ **I LOVE YOU!** ”

Azi gasped and reached his upper set of arms to hold the lion’s open mouth shut. He failed to do this, as the lion’s head squirmed out of his grasp every time he got close to catching it’s jaws. Jeremiel was left absolutely stunned. It was almost as if the stars had recognized the importance of the moment themselves, as they all began to burn brighter, including the Cherub’s favorite red one. 

_ Well of course Azi loves me--he loves everybody. Angels are like that, aren’t they? _ Though as much as he tried to deny it, he knew what the truth was. 

“Oh--oh dear! Just ignore this old silly he really--”

“ **I WANT TO KISS YOU** ”

“ _ Good Lord _ , I am  _ so  _ sorry Jeremiel I can’t--”

Jeremiel hadn’t even realized how close he had come to Azi and how he was reaching for the human head. He grabbed the rambling Cherub and pressed his lips tenderly to his lips.

All three of Azi’s remaining animal heads made terribly loud noises of primal victory at this development. 

“ **I LOVE YOU** ” The lion roared wildly yet again. 

“Let us never part.” The ox nodded, pleased. 

“I’ll never be  _ restrained _ again!” The eagle cried, relishing the moment. 

Jeremiel couldn’t help but part from Azi to laugh at the sudden outbursts from all of Azi’s normally tame heads. 

“Oh--oh!” Was all Azi’s human head could say, clearly flustered at the prospect of the situation. 

“Tell me,  _ Azi _ , what’s your actual name? I never caught it.” 

“ **_AZIRAPHALE_ ** .” All heads said at once, happy and focused on Jeremiel. The Virtue smiled at this and leaned forward to kiss the side (cheek?) of the lion’s head in gratefulness. Aziraphale was blushing a wonderful shade of crimson. 

“Well...Cherub Aziraphale. I love you too.” 

This moment signaled the end of a chapter in their books. For as soon as Jeremiel looked to his side...he saw Araton and Raziel there, not far away.. They were smiling, but not because they were pleased at Jeremiel’s romantic success. No...it was...it was…

Nefarious. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

No one in particular

There was another trial in Heaven--another angel framed by the Virtues Araton and Raziel. Their very own friend--Virtue Jeremiel. If  _ She  _ was still present, perhaps Jeremiel would not have Fallen. Perhaps he would have. She works in mysterious ways, as you know. 

One of the Cherubim had cried and screamed for Jeremiel. One of the Cherubim tried to convince the Archangels to allow him to Fall with Jeremiel--for they were in love. 

This Cherub was taken aside to have his memories erased. Cherubim were special—too close to God to be allowed to Fall by the judgement of an Archangel. If an angel in the highest sphere (the three choirs of Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones) were to Fall--it would be because  _ She _ determined that they were to. That was the only stipulation She had placed on the Archangels when conducting their own trials. 

The Cherub was given a warning. Though he now couldn’t remember what crime he had committed, questioning an Archangel was usually a bad idea.

“Zachriel, you will wipe your brother’s memories.”

Zachriel had tried to refuse, but he could not. In the end, he wiped his brother’s memories of his lover, Jeremiel.

“Aziraphale,” began Micheal, “next time there won’t be a warning. You will be tried by  _ Her _ .”

And as much as Zachriel hated to admit it...he had cried when he watched his brother begging for Jeremiel to be spared. Zachriel wasn’t soft in the way Aziraphale was. But he cared for his brother and hated the vacant way Aziraphale’s eyes looked when he returned from having the memories wiped. The sadness he felt for a partner he no longer had or remembered. 

But as broken as he was, Zachriel was not going to let this slide. His brother, Aziraphale, was more broken at this point. He would get them back together again--even if one of them was now a demon. And a perfect opportunity presented itself when he found out that he was going to Earth on assignment with his brother.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	2. The Bad and The Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My boys ;-;

Cherub Aziraphale

The events of the prior week were a blur to Aziraphale. He felt lost--confused. As if a part of him had been ripped away. He was uncharacteristically depressed, and he couldn’t figure out why. The worst part about it was his brother--Zachriel. Aziraphale knew that Zachriel was worried about him from the way the other Cherub had been acting especially soft towards him lately. He didn’t want his brother to worry about him, so he tried to fake a smile. 

Currently they were in the waiting room of the Archangel Gabriel’s office. The angel in question, after about thirty minutes of waiting, finally emerged from the room which he worked in.

“Aziraphale, Zachriel.” Gabriel began, one of his signature smiles spread wide on his face. 

“Hello Gabriel.” The two of them responded. Aziraphale with his false cheery tone and Zachriel with his usual grumble. 

“I bring good tidings. The two of you have been given a special mission. I think you’re gonna like this.” Gabriel handed them papers. Aziraphale smiled, the first genuine one in a week, though it was small. 

“Oh Gabriel this is wonderful!” Aziraphale exclaimed softly as he skimmed through the paperwork. Gabriel nodded, clapping his hands together in what seemed to be genuine joy (for a change). 

“Yes! That’s the spirit. Knew you would like it.” 

“Yeah, well…” Zachriel started his tone oddly suspicious, “Why are we being assigned to Earth? Are we being demoted or something?”

“No, Zachriel, nothing like that. You should be flattered to be getting such an important job. Guarding Eden.” Gabriel reassured, patting his hands on the air as if he were trying to smooth down Zachriel’s intangible irritation. The other Cherub suddenly stiffened. 

“Are there demons down there?” He asked, to which Gabriel’s smile faltered slightly. 

“I don’t know? Probably. But not for long. You two will certainly deal with them, right?” 

The Cherubim siblings both nodded falsely. Not that Gabriel could tell they were false nods. 

“You have a day to prepare. We have your bodies ready--everything is in order. Now, may I have a word with Aziraphale alone?” Gabriel asked with a pointed look at Zachriel. 

“You don’t need to ask  _ my _ permission.” Zachriel replied as he stood up and began his leave of the room in an angry stride. Though as he was leaving his eagle head glanced at Aziraphale and his lion head  _ glared _ at Gabriel. 

“He's a testy one, isn’t he? Alright Aziraphale, I can see you’re happy about Earth.  _ You _ were picked for  _ that _ reason of course. You’re a bit of a favorite of ours out of all the Cherubim. So God’s asked me to deliver this to you.” Gabriel handed him a sheathed sword, immense power radiating from it. Aziraphale carefully removed the sword from its sheath and watched as holy fire sprang to life around the beautiful blade. 

“The Flaming Sword,” Aziraphale gasped with wonder and admiration in his voice, “I never imagined I would have one to call my own.” 

“Well, what can I say. She doesn’t give them out to just anybody. In fact, she really doesn’t give them out at all.” Gabriel shrugged, violet eyes watchful as Aziraphale reverently put the sword back in it’s beautiful sheath. 

“What about Zachriel?” Aziraphale asked, saddened at Gabriel’s second shrug. 

“Just there for backup I guess. In case you run into demons or if you need to pop back into Heaven for a moment. And well...Angels are social creatures, right? I doubt the humans will be much company.” 

So Aziraphale and Zachriel departed Heaven for Earth, one of them excited. The other one still brooding about how much pain his brother had been in a week ago. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cherub Zachriel

Eden was a great place, though Zachriel’s brother had enjoyed it a lot more than he did. It was good to see Aziraphale happy for a change, though emptiness still lurked in Aziraphale’s eyes when he wasn’t entertained by something new. 

Their jobs were simple. Aziraphale guarded The Eastern Gate. Zachriel patrolled the inside of the Garden. This was perfect for Zachriel’s purposes--as he was looking for something. It  _ had  _ to be here. 

And finally, after about a month of searching, he found it. 

It was the only main entrance to Hell that currently existed. A cold staircase hidden in a dark corner of the Garden. There was a curse placed over it so mortal creatures would not see it or stumble into it. There was not a staircase to Heaven yet--Angels can fly up there after all. 

There was a familiar demon waiting for him a few stairs down from the top of the staircase where Zachriel stood. 

“Musamiel? Is that you?” Zachriel huffed in surprise. The demon shrugged it off, though Zachriel could see a familiar anxiety in his eyes. 

“They call me Eric now. Well...not really. I mean--that’s my given name. But everyone else just calls me... _ disposable _ .” 

Zachriel winced inwardly at that comment. No one in Heaven called Eric ‘ _ disposable _ ’, but they certainly felt that way about him. Unfortunately, nothing changed for poor Principality Musamiel. 

“Let’s make this quick. We’ll both be in hot water if anyone found out.” Zachriel replied to which Eric nodded. 

“What can I do for you, o great Cherub Zachriel?” Eric said, trying to act brave. Though he didn’t fool anyone.

“There’s a demon. I want him working up here. I don’t know if you can make that happen or not, but he Fell fairly recently. In Heaven he was known as the Virtue Jeremiel.” Zachriel explained in a quick and hushed tone. Eric looked contemplative. 

“Crawly’s his name now. He refused to work with us--said he couldn’t betray Aziraphale. Those two became an item, did they?”

“Not for long.” The Cherub replied quickly. 

“Well anyways, they wiped his memory of Aziraphale and he’s been perfectly cooperative ever since, shining example of a demon. Shouldn’t be too hard to sway some officials into assigning him up here. Don’t know why you’d want him now though--he’s as wretched as the rest of us.”

Zachriel shook his head, “doesn’t matter to you, I think. Just as long as you can do it.”

“Yea, I think I can. Have you got the goods?”

Zachriel handed him a few of his molted angel feathers, Eric snatching it out of his hands quickly. 

It might help to explain how Zachriel got in contact with a demon. You see, there’s a bounty on angel feathers in Hell. It was believed that if you managed to get your hands on a few, you had the upper hand in a fight. And thus, demons who brought a few angel feathers back with them were often promoted. And poor Eric was tired of being disposable. Hell had even begun making clones of him and destroying them right in front of his face for their amusement. If he could bring them a mass of angel feathers--he could certainly get promoted. And what better way to get them than by conspiring with a few angels? Though Eric’s plans were somewhat flawed, as he could never manage to hold onto the feathers. Bigger, meaner demons often stole them from him before he could. All he had to do was throw some of the feathers Crawly’s way and boom.

As for Zachriel, he had managed to coerce the Virtue Raziel into telling him where he could find a willing demon to conspire with. Wasn’t too difficult to figure out his plan from there.

_ Raziel and Araton. The shifty lot of them. I don’t trust them but for now it’s all I have. _

“What about the rest?” Eric demanded, holding out his other hand expectantly, “I was promised more.” 

Zachriel shook his head, “you really think I trust a demon? As soon as Jerem--er--Crawly’s up here on assignment...I’ll give you the rest of your feathers.”

Eric sighed, but agreed. He was a demon after all, and it was very likely that he would exploit Zachriel’s trust if given the opportunity to do so. He met the demon’s eyes and was met with a coming question. 

“...It’s none of my business of course, and I can’t really say I care much about what an angel is up to. But why do you want Crawly up here so badly? He’s not the same Jeremiel you knew in Heaven.” 

Zachriel pursed his lips, debating what he should tell the demon. He let out a sigh, not unlike Eric’s recent one. It couldn’t hurt to divulge a little bit of his plan to Eric. 

“It’s not for me.” 

Eric tilted his head in confusion. But the gears were turning in his head and slowly his confusion melted into realization. He turned his head to look east, and though he couldn’t see anything but the tangle of trees, he knew there was an angel perched on the wall--not too far from where the pair of them stood. 

“The Angel of the Eastern Gate. It’s Aziraphale, isn’t it? Crawly won’t remember--”

“And neither will Aziraphale. He had his memories wiped too. But still…” Zachriel trailed off. He could still hear Aziraphale’s screams and pleadings for Jeremial to stay in Heaven. Eric looked uncomfortable, sensing Zachriel’s disquiet and looked to the ground. 

“Why are you doing this? Even if they do somehow...I don’t know--build some kind of connection. It could get them both in trouble.” Eric asked, wringing his hands together. Zachriel didn’t answer him at first, prompting the demon to look up at the angel again. Eric’s eyes widened. 

“Oh no. No, no  _ please _ don’t I’m--”

“I’m doing this because I love my brother.” 

Zachriel hadn’t even realized he was crying. Eric shifted uncomfortably on his feet, glancing anxiously over at the stairway to Hell.

“I--er-uh...oh for Satan’s sake.” Eric stuttered, scratching his head, “look uh...I’m a demon so don’t read too much into this but uh...don’t worry. I’ll get Crawly up here.” 

Zachriel nodded miserably, watching as the demon extended his hand. Cautiously the angel took it and shook. He should have been repulsed by those soot-stained hands. He should have pulled away as soon as possible. 

But he didn’t. Heaven was cold and angels didn’t often touch each other. So his hand lingered in Eric’s. Their hold on each other was warm and firm, concealing an unspoken promise.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Disposable Demon Eric

Hell was horrible. What did you expect? But it was particularly horrible for the demon named Eric. His demon name was strange to him, as it didn’t sound like other demon names. Demon names sounded menacing, slippery. Like Beelzebub or Hastur. 

But Eric? It sounded like a disposable name to him--one the devil had pulled straight out of his arse. It didn’t sound menacing at all. The demon supposed Musamiel was a strange name too--as it really didn’t mean anything. In his angel name and demon name he found no difference. Both Heaven and Hell saw him as disposable, didn’t they? Both would cast him aside without a second thought (the other demons thoroughly enjoyed discorporating his body in their freetime). Eric vaguely wondered if there was someone out there who wouldn’t, 

The angel’s touch lingered on his hand. 

“Focus Eric, focus.” The demon huffed to himself as he walked along the smutty hallways. He stopped in front of Beelzebub’s Office, which was currently vacant. He had planned for this of course. For as disposable as he was, he wasn’t an idiot. He was just anxious. The way he was created to be. Even Hell couldn’t change that--though Hell wouldn’t change that. They needed anxious demons to bully in their freetime after all. 

He walked into the office--it being unlocked. Beelzebub had decided to stop locking it after repetitive break ins. Once the demons broke in, there was not much fun they could have with stealing or tampering. Most of what was in the office was paperwork--something all supernatural beings, demonic or angelic, loathed doing too much of. So the only demon who had any real motive tinkering with paperwork was one who conspired with angels. 

Eric strode quickly from the waiting room area into Beelzebub’s personal office space, closing the door behind him. In the corner of Beelzebub’s room was a filing cabinet. 

“Bingo.” He whispered to himself as he approached it, pulling the crumpled white feathers out of his black robe. He peered at all the labels, contemplating which drawer contained Crawly’s file. 

_ Demons A-E _ . 

He opened the drawer and flipped through the files nervously. 

Why was he doing this? A few feathers for himself would do nicely, wouldn’t it? And if he got caught…but Zachriel’s tears appeared in his mind’s eye. 

No he wasn’t doing this for Zachriel, not at all. He was doing this for Zachriel’s feathers. The angel had promised him the entirety of his last molt which would have enough feathers to get him an extremely gratifying promotion. He was a demon, and there was no possible way he could be feeling sympathy for an angel.

He found Crawly's file. Opening it, Eric was met with a small stack of reports and informational papers. He checked to make sure that Crawly  _ was _ in fact Jeremiel, which he was, and then proceeded to look through Crawly’s few reports, check marks on the ones Beelzebub had already reviewed. Thankfully for Eric, there were quite a few the Prince of Hell hadn’t read yet. He cursed Beelzebub happily for the Prince’s laziness. 

He looked through these papers and found a relatively short one report. Through Eric’s time of taking notes, he had learned a lot about forging handwriting. With a demonic miracle he morphed the text into the story he desired to tell leaving only the authentic signature (which he could not forge). 

_ Got into a little skirmish with an angel after attempting to spy on Heaven. Didn’t figure anything out but I got my hands on a few feathers, as you can see here.  _

  * _Serpent Demon Crawly_



Eric smiled devilishly as he tucked the false report and feathers back into the file. He closed the drawer and continued part two of his plan. 

_ Demons F-J _ . 

He quickly found Hastur’s file, as it was thick with grimy reports and tons of informational papers. He almost lost heart as he pawed through the big stack until he saw an unchecked paper labeled ‘ _ Eden Recommendations’. _ He knew it would be there--Hastur had been scouting out demons to do the job for a while, though the Duke seemed to constantly be disappointed by potential candidates. 

There were three demons on the list, all of whom Eric despised. Naturally this made him snicker at his operation, glad Zachriel had tasked him with it. One of these demons was going to go to Eden and spy for Hell until Beelzebub gave the order to stir up trouble. With a swift motion, Eric ‘miracled’ Crawly’s name onto the list, at the top. In the process he knocked off the demon that he had the most personal trouble with.

It was going perfectly. He slid the paper back into Hastur’s file and closed the drawer carefully. Looking about him to make sure he hadn’t knocked anything out of place or left any trace of himself, he made for the door of Beelzebub’s room. The waiting room was dark, as the usually flickering lights were off. This gave him one advantage when he heard footsteps coming, as he could see the shadows of their feet in the light that filtered inside the room from under the door. He hid under the secretary’s desk quickly, anxiety bubbling up in his chest like a pit of sulfur. 

“So?” Hastur’s voice croaked stoically, “have you decided who’ll you send to Eden yet, Lord?” 

He heard the footsteps halt and a shuffling as one of them shoved papers onto the secretary’s desk. 

“Haven’t looked at it yet. Haven’t had  _ time _ . Clearly I need a new zzzecretary, I told her to handle the reports and she hazzen’t yet. I’ve had to do them  _ alone _ .” The Lord of the Flies drawled in irritation. Eric remembered the state of Beelzebub’s room, papers thrown about all over it, and silently agreed with the Prince of Hell. 

“The Angels have arrived in Eden. Or rather, they’ve been there for what appears to be a month now.” Hastur remarked, Eric could only imagine that he was grimacing and at this comment and that in turn, Beelzebub mirrored his expression.

“Do we have any intel on them?” Beelzebub replied, their tone progressively more irritated. 

“No--we think they’re Cherubim. One of them has a Flaming Sword. But we can’t tell while they’re in their corporation.” 

“Cherubim? If that’s true then...that can only mean that the..urgh.. _ Opposition _ izzzn’t playing around. We need someone flexible...someone who can stay out of their sight…”

“Lord, I believe any one of the demons I have listed for you can play the part diligently.” Hastur replied, voice as low and gravelly as ever. 

Beelzebub didn’t reply. Eric could hear their footsteps drawing near, and it made him nauseous, triggering thoughts of what would happen if he was found. He thought of the Fall and how much it hurt, the boiling sulfur--

The moment never came because Beelzebub opened the door to their personal space and vanished behind it without a second thought. He waited until he could hear Hastur’s departing footsteps to cautiously dart out of the office. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Disposable Demon Eric

The demon with horned shaped hair shielded his eyes from the bright sun with his hands as he crept through the Garden, searching for the Cherub. Technically he hadn’t needed to come to the surface again until Crawly was assigned, but he felt the need to inform Zachriel of what had transpired. He found the black-haired angel sitting by a stream trying to dip his toes in. 

It was strange to see Zachriel without four different heads, four arms, and four wings. Then again, the same could probably be said of Zachriel to Eric. 

Their corporations looked almost entirely human with the exception of their respective black and white wings and their clothes. Humans didn’t have clothes  _ yet _ . It was only a matter of time though. 

Zachriel looked up in surprise at the approaching demon. 

“Musa-- _Eric_. What are you doing here?”   
“I’m updating you on what’s happened so far?” Eric replied like it was obvious. It wasn’t obvious though. As far as both of them were concerned, they only had to see each other once more for Eric’s final bout of feathers--the reward.

“Oh.” Was all Zachriel replied looking the demon up and down. 

“Gonna sit down.” Eric stated, doing just that beside the angel who watched him in bewilderment. 

“Alright then...so. What’s the status of uh…” Zachriel seemed at a loss for words as to what to call it. 

“It’s foul-proof. In Hell they have me taking notes constantly. I do a lot of paperwork--see a lot of different writing. So I developed a penchant towards mimicry of other demons’ handwriting.” He stopped to look into Zachriel’s face for any sign of emotion. The angel’s chartreuse eyes were bright and interested. 

“Go on then.” The Cherub nodded. 

“I went into Beelzebub’s office and forged a report about how he got into a skirmish with some angels and left the feathers with that report. Then I took Hastur’s file--he’s the Duke of Hell--and put Crawly’s name at the top of the list of demons they’re considering sending on assignment to Eden. They’ll want someone who’s good at fighting angels. He’s at the top of the list and his most recent report is complete with angel feathers. I’d say he’s a shoo-in.” Eric explained, hyper-aware of how fixated Zachriel’s eyes were upon him. 

“Oh that  _ is _ excellent news.” Zachriel replied, a small smile forming on his normally stoic face, “...I should thank you, Eric. Your clever plan...I mean, Heaven doesn’t know what an asset it’s lost.” 

Zachriel seemed to recoil at his own comment and something delightful twisted inside of Eric. Clever? An asset? 

He was the  _ disposable _ demon. 

“Well er...D-don’t thank me. I just need those feathers of yours.” Eric insisted to which Zachriel nodded in agreement, his smile fading. 

“Of course. With all of the feathers I’m giving you, you’ll definitely get promoted. Just make sure to give them to your head office over time, otherwise they’ll suspect you.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Serpent Demon Crawly

Crawly was sleeping, a rare treat these days. Though he never actually needed it, it was something nice to drown in. 

He was dreaming unpleasant nightmares--as demons tend to. 

Fire swirled around Crawly as he was Falling. It burned his wings terribly, turning white to black. He tried to scream and cry about it--but nothing came out. Everything and nothing was around him at the same time.

Then he landed in the pit of boiling sulfur and felt everything around him burn up. Against the pain, he felt something different happening inside him. The flesh beneath his skin began to crawl. First it was tingly, then it added insult to injury with regards to his pain levels. Something was coming  _ out _ . He screamed as what felt like tons of little daggers tore his skin open from the inside. Looking down at the horrific sight of his skin being torn from him, there were scales coming out of him. Inside his body, multiple angelic pieces of him were twisting--turning--aching. They were morphing into demonic organs--snake organs. Something reached inside of him and ripped him apart, soiling his essence from angel to demon--stripping away his light. His eyes burned and became yellow with narrow black slits. All of his teeth were knocked out and replaced again--this time with long fangs where his canines were supposed to be. His eyes burned themselves into something different. All the while he was screaming a name, a name that he couldn’t remember. It was blurred. 

He pulled himself out of the boiling sulfur and onto brimstone ground, writhing in pain and sorrow. He was crying out for someone, someone he couldn’t remember. Someone who belonged to Heaven...not this  _ place _ . Could you call it that? He was in some pit, everything around him on fire. He blinked back at his wings with a new pair of eyes. 

Oh his wings--his  _ beautiful _ wings...reduced to black feathers with ash and blood encrusted in them.

“What do we call you?” A metallic voice rang against his ears. It felt like someone was searing through his eardrums a thousand times over. 

“J-Jeremiel.” He hissed out, finding his throat different--alien. The voice scolded him cruelly and some unseen force grabbed his essence by the throat, constricting painfully. 

“That’s an  _ angel _ name.” It growled, releasing him from the chokehold. He tried crawling away in search of some shelter. Some place where he could deal with the pain without fire flashing against his eyes every second. Heaven help him, he wanted--he needed the safety of his Cherub--his Azira--something blurred the name out of Crawly’s consciousness. 

“Look at yourself, you disgusting creature. Crawling away like a coward. Well--more like slithering away. But I quite like that word. It suits a sniveling creature like you. Your name is Crawly-- _ yes  _ I like that.” 

Crawly tried to remember. There was someone he wanted desperately right now. Someone had held him in Heaven when he cried, someone went to see the stars with him, someone kissed him.

“Missing your Mother already? Go ahead and cry then.”

The Cherub had been at his trial. He could not remember any of the Cherub’s features now though. He only remembered the questions, love, and gentle embrace. He wailed out the blurry name, desperate for his other half to save him. 

“ _ You’re pathetic _ . Most demons give in by now. What is it, up there, that you miss so much already? You’ve only  _ just _ Fallen.” 

The stars.  _ Oh! _ His stars! Crawly held up what was left of his scaly hands and tried to make a star. A nice little red star, the color of Crawly’s hair. ---------- had liked that star. ---------- wanted to see his stars. ---------- had loved Crawly, and Crawly wanted them. 

“What’s he doing?” a different voice asked. 

“Think he’s trying to make something. Dunno what.” 

He wasn’t in the same burning area he was previously in. Now he sat in a filthy infirmary, two demons standing in front of him. 

He lashed out against them when they told him where he was and  _ what _ he was now. He tried to tell them that he would never do as they asked of him, not while ---------- was still in Heaven, still loving him and probably crying over him. 

His punishment for this was Solitary Confinement--something both Heaven and Hell used to punish their own. Angels and Demons were both social creatures after all. 

Crawly woke up gasping for air he didn’t need. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Serpent Demon Crawly

“Crawly. Beelzebub’s Office.  **_Now_ ** .” Hastur growled iratly watching as the other demon pushed themselves off their seat in lazy, languid motions. 

“Calm yourself toadhead. What, can I ask, does the great Lord want?” Crawly replied with a smug grin, immediately regretting it when Hastur pushed him against the wall, grimy hand against the lower demon’s throat. 

“I don’t know what they want  _ Crawly _ but you’d best mind your tongue around me. I’m a Duke you miserable serpent and Beelzebub can easily pick another demon for this job if I should decide to strike you down where you stand.” 

Crawly squirmed under Hastur’s hand and nodded a shamefully quick nod to cue his release. The Duke of Hell let him go and sniffed grumpily, leading the serpent demon down the filthy halls of Hell and into the waiting room of Beelzebub’s Office. 

“We’ll wait here until they’re ready. Do us all a favor and keep your mouth shut.” Hastur sneered, pushing Crawly into one of the soot-filled seats. The serpent demon inwardly cringed when he heard a squelching sound beneath him, finding out the chair was soaked in some vile fluid. His feelings of disgust must have bled onto his face, because Hastur and the few other demons in the office were chuckling at him.

_ Humiliating to say the least _ . Crawly thought. 

They were waiting for at least fifteen minutes--Crawly’s robe soaked through on the bottom--before they were let into Beelzebub’s room. 

“Crawly, Hastur, come here.” the Lord of the Flies huffed, beckoning the pair of demons into their office. The serpent demon stood up quickly, glad to be rid of the uncomfortable chair, and stalked into Beelzebub’s office. 

_ It must be important, since they’ve summoned me here personally. Usually they just fling sloppy memos in our faces. _

Crawly vaguely wondered if ---------- was among the Fallen, or if they would ever be. Hell was a lonely place for someone who had been put straight into solitary upon their arrival.. 

“Crawly.” Beelzebub’s bored voice called the demon from his thoughts and into their office. Currently the Prince of Hell was sitting with their legs propped up on their desk which was cluttered with papers and cups filled with overflowing water. The overhead pipes in Hell were always leaky. When a few were fixed, another few not-so-coincidentally broke elsewhere. 

“Lord Beelzebub.” He bowed, long red hair falling into chaos. He fixed it up again was forced into another chair by Hastur. This time the chair wasn’t wet, but hard as a rock instead. 

“We have an azzignment for you.” They buzzed, slipping a file open with the most mundane expression demonly possible.

“Oh? You do, do you?” Crawly smirked in amusement. Beelzebub was stating the obvious. Why else would they call him in here? Unless he was in trouble--but demons were always in trouble as far as he was concerned. And Hastur would have already taken care of it if that was the case. 

“Garden of Eden,” Beelzebub began, “we haven’t touched it yet. Don’t really know what to expect. Only  _ thing _ we know about it is that some of H-H-H- _ Her _ new little toys live there. Humanzzz they’re called, they look like most  _ lower angelzzz _ but no wings. I’ve been told we might be able to sway them in our direction.” 

“Lord--” Hastur began, flabbergasted by something, but Beelzebub silenced him with a wave of their hands. 

“So you want me to go up there and tempt them to our side?” 

“No. Not yet. I want you to study what’zzz going on. Explore the place. ZZZpend zome time up there obzerving. We’ll give you further orderzzz once you’ve got information on the place.”

“Got it. Is there a body ready for me?” 

“We do--it’s a snake body for now. There are two  _ angelzzz _ up there. They would surely notice another human-shaped corporation.” 

“Nnyea.” Crawly nodded, apprehensive at the thought of angels. He had not seen any of them since his Fall. 

“If I may interject.” Hastur prompted, disgusted by his own manners.

“Hastur.” Beelzebub nodded, clearly unimpressed by the Duke. 

“Why are you assigning  _ Crawly _ to Eden? I would never pick--”

The Lord of the Flies glared at Hastur immediately shushing the lower demon. They picked up a gunge-stained sheet of paper and flung it at him.

“If you didn’t  _ want _ Crawly to go to Eden then why did you put him  _ AT THE TOP OF YOUR LIZZZZT _ ?” Beelzebub buzzed, yelling the last part. The frog demon examined the list in confusion. 

“But I didn’t--”

“Don’t start,  _ Hastur _ . I’ve looked at all of Crawly’s recent reports and they’re impeccable. Not to mention he’s a snake--perfect for avoiding those damn angelzzz. Get the  _ Heaven _ out of my office.” 

Crawly grinned as the stunned Duke of Hell slowly backed out of the room. All of Hastur’s harassment finally caught up to him.

_ Wait...impeccable reports? But...all I’ve done are a few menial tasks around Hell since Falling... _

The serpent demon decided not to question it. He was getting an important job, and he could use the perks that would come with it. For one, he could mostly stay out of Hell until the job was finished. __

The door closed and Beelzebub gave him instructions and terms of his stay on Earth. Apparently there would be two angels looking after Eden, and he was to stay away from them. 

_ Stay away? How could I stay away? That's no fun at all... _ Thought Crawly mischievously, allowing his grin to grow wide and toothy. 

\---------------------------------------------

Serpent Demon Crawly

Crawly decided to focus his own  _ personal  _ surveillance on the angels, finding the humans incredibly boring to watch after a while. At first he had been interested in all the new beings around him--all the plants and animals--the humans were even interesting at first. But he wanted to have  _ fun _ . Playing around with a few angels would be fun. 

He recognized this one, it was the Cherub Zachriel. He was sitting at a stream looking at his surroundings thoughtfully. Maybe he was waiting around for the other angel? But the second cherub had a gate to guard somewhere. Crawly hadn’t seen him  _ yet _ . He took in the Cherub’s appearance and found himself confused. 

_ Why does he only have one pair of wings? _

_ Did Heaven do demotions? I don’t remember that--angels being made the way they’re supposed to be and all that. Maybe his corporation can’t handle having four wings? Though I can’t see why not. I don’t remember there being demotions, only Falls.  _

He slithered over. Nothing wrong with asking questions  _ now _ . He can’t fall twice, can he? 

“Cherub Zachriel,” The serpent began, “where are your other wingssss?” 

The angel turned his head towards the serpent in surprise, eyebrows drawing together in suspicion. He rested his hand thoughtfully on the sheathed sword which lay on the ground beside him. 

“The second pair of Cherub wings hid the Cherubim’s nakedness. In this form we do not require them--thus they are not on this plane, just like our other heads and arms... _ you _ . Serpent demon, what is your name?”

He had forgotten how stiff and stuck up angels could be. 

“Crawly.” The serpent hissed in reply, distaste at his own name. He thought he saw a shadow of a smile on the other’s face before it hardened into a frown. Realization of something washed over the angel's face, something Crawly was not privy to. 

“Well... _ Crawly _ , slither back to whatever miserable place you came from before you face my wrath.” 

“Your... _ wrath _ ?” 

The Cherub stood up in a flash drawing a standard issue sword from its sheath, gripping hilt till his corporation’s knuckles went white. 

“Begone demon! Foul serpent!” The Cherub yelled lifting the sword in preparation to strike. Urgency kicked into the demon’s nervous system and he began to subtly move backwards. 

“Calm yourself, mate. ‘Was only asking questions.” Crawly hissed, coiling to strike against the angel. The Cherub brought his sword down, narrowly missing the serpent who flung himself away from the blade.

“I’m  _ sure _ you were-- _ demon _ .” Zachriel grumbled, pulling his sword out of the ground he had landed it in--a close call for Crawly who was looking for an opening in order to slip away. 

“It’s been a pleasure to see you again, Zachriel.” Crawly replied with a smug edge to his tone, “but I have other things to get to.” 

“I’m sure you do. But I wouldn’t worry about any of it--I’ll smite you here and now.” The angel raised his sword again, about to go for another blow when a sound interrupted him, one of the humans, the female was making a noise of surprise at the discovery of something. Crawly took this opportunity to slither away from the distracted angel. 

Crawly found the other angel sitting on the eastern side of the wall which surrounded the place. He was facing the Garden, his legs swung out and lightly kicking the wall. There was a flaming sword in his hand, and the angel was admiring it before decidedly sheathing it again. Crawly moved forward slowly, stopping only when the angel lifted his head to sniff the air. The angel’s eyes met his own serpentine ones. He expected this one to react the same way that Zachriel had, to reach for that flaming sword and send Crawly back to where he belonged. 

This was not what  _ The Other Angel _ did.  _ The Other Angel _ smiled at him--a demon. The last thing Crawly expected was what the angel did next, which was to wave to him. His features were soft and friendly, unlike any angel he could remember. Unlike Zachriel.

Crawly began to move forward again,  _ The Other Angel _ continuing to smile and lightly kick the wall. 

_ This has to be a trap.  _

But  _ The Other Angel _ never moved to get up or grab his sword as the demon got closer. In fact-- _ The Other Angel _ began to speak. 

“Lovely day, isn’t it. Much more lovely than downstairs, I take it.” 

“It’ssss better than leaky pipessss.” Crawly agreed, his voice more like a hiss filled whisper than an actual voice.  _ The Other Angel _ actually laughed at this and nodded. 

“Heaven’s been a touch cold lately, so I’m glad to be here too. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy being in Heaven--but this is a  _ wonderful _ place.” The angel rambled, easing Crawly’s former cautiousness. 

There was something painfully familiar about him. But the snake drove familiarity from his mind and decided that  _ this _ was indeed their first meeting. Crawly coiled himself up, getting comfortable, and stared at the Angel in front of him who occasionally flitted his eyes over to make sure the serpent wasn’t doing anything worthy of his sword. 

“You gonna sssmite me?” Crawly challenged. The angel’s feet stopped hitting against the wall. 

“I don’t see the point. Zachriel is a mean beast as it is--if you make any trouble within the Garden, I’m sure he will do the smiting.” 

“Why not sssave him the trouble?” Came Crawly again. The angel regarded him with a look of confusion. 

“My dear boy--it’s almost as if you  _ want _ to be smited.”  _ The Other Angel _ huffed, “well I won’t do it. Not unless you upset me. I don’t think it’s necessary to be violent when you haven’t threatened me yet.” 

Something in Crawly’s stomach squirmed in delight, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“That Zachriel is an asssss.” Began Crawly.

“Wha--he is  _ not _ ! Mind your tongue,  _ fiend _ . He’s just a bit--” 

“Of an asss--”

“Touchy.”

“Ass--”

“Oh, you wily serpent-- _ no _ . Zachriel is--”

“A bastard.”

“And you are  _ annoying _ .” Finished  _ The Other Angel _ . Crawly laughed at this--a strange serpentine cackle. Decidedly, he liked this angel. He was not supposed to like angels. But he  _ was _ a demon. As far as he was concerned, as long as downstairs wasn’t involved, he could like an angel. Just one angel.  _ This _ angel. 

“It’sss a part of my charm.” Crawly replied, wishing his snake-form could smirk.

“Well, you’re the first demon I’ve met with any sort of  _ charm _ .”

“And how many other demonsss do you know?” Crawly hissed, genuinely curious at who had crossed paths with this  _ Other Angel _ . 

“Well...er...none I suppose. Are all demons as talkative as you?” 

Crawly laughed again, “sssily angel. I don’t suggest you chat with any otherssss. They won’t be sso talkative.” 

“What makes you so different then?”  _ The Other Angel  _ asked, finally meeting Crawly’s gaze without immediately flitting his own away. This pleased the demon greatly, their eye contact held, finally solid. 

“Violence isn’t my sstyle. Prefer to just ssorta...ssslither around. Enjoy myself.”

“Oh,”  _ The Other Angel _ began, “then we have that in common. Violence, that is, not the slithering part. Though I have  _ really _ been enjoying myself as well. Earth is nice.” 

“It iss nice.” Crawly agreed, subtly moving closer to his conversational partner.  _ The Other Angel _ smelled differently than Zachriel had. This one smelled like honey and leaves. It almost smelled as if...he had been rolling around in the grass. Crawly made a mental note of this and leaned even closer to the other creature. 

“I’m quite fascinated by the humans. I’ve talked to them a few times. Eve is very fond of asking questions...she reminds me of an angel I knew once.”   
“Oh?” Crawly made a mental note of this fact about Eve. He _was_ supposed to be observing them after all. Simultaneously, he was still trying to imagine this angel rolling around in the grass. 

“Yes...well I can’t really remember him now, though I know he’s  _ Fallen _ . I think they wiped my memories so I wouldn’t suffer remembering.” 

Crawly had Fallen for asking questions. Well not really--he was framed by the Virtue pricks named Araton and Raziel. But he had been told that it was only a matter of time--that his questions were on the verge of blasphemy. 

Then he suddenly registered the angel’s last comment and felt a shiver go down his spine. 

“I wonder how he’s doing.” The angel continued, eyes focused out onto the horizon. Crawly did the snake equivalent of a snort in reply. 

“Well don’t ask me to go looking for him for you. I’m a demon, I won’t do an angel any favorss.”

“I wasn’t.”  _ Other Angel _ said quietly, his voice soft and full of distant grief. Crawly felt something twist in his gut at the sound of the angel’s voice, the eyes focused somewhere nonexistent.

“Er...well it’sss not like I could anyway. Demonss get new namess in Hell, and a lot of angelss have Fallen for asking questionss anyway. That’ss how I Fell. I think. I try not to remember too much of Heaven. It’s easier to forget.” Crawly was unaware of how emotional his own voice sounded, matching the angel’s. But he  _ was _ suddenly aware of how the angel was now looking at him, a loving, kind gaze. 

“I can imagine, dear boy. There must be people in Heaven that you miss. But I couldn’t either...they wiped my memories of him. All I can remember is a fragment of a conversation I had with him.” 

Crawly thought of all he could remember of ----------. He couldn’t remember anything about them, only that they existed and that they were dear to Crawly. So precious that even Hell couldn’t drill it out of him, and instead resorted to a memory wipe. 

“Yea-- _ No _ .” He hissed, stopping himself, “I’m a  _ demon _ , I don’t  _ misssss _ anybody.”

He could not fool the angel, and he knew that. But the angel could fool him. 

“I suppose you’re right. Must’ve lost that ability when you Fell.” The angel pretended to agree, in order to satisfy Crawly. How  _ considerate _ .

“But I miss him. Our conversations...we were talking about the stars. I told him that I loved him, and that’s all I remember. I think I still love him”

Crawly felt the little bit of the delight fade away into some other disgusting emotion. 

“Surely if you ssaw him now...you wouldn’t feel that way.” 

“Oh but I would.”

“He’sss a demon now. We’re not exactly a pleassure to be around.” Crawly hissed, watching as the angel’s head turned to him, his brow raised. 

“Well...I would venture to say you’ve been a pleasure to be around.” 

The delight returned and then some. It changed from a dull twinge into a fervid fire. The serpent did not say anything, feeling too flustered to do so. He decided to listen as the angel continued to speak about minor pleasures he had experienced thus far on Earth. 

The two of them went on in casual conversation for about an hour longer before Crawly slithered off. The serpent knew it was not the last he would see of  _ The Other Angel _ .

No--he was going to come back the next day. Why he was drawn to this angel, he didn’t know. There was something incredibly soft and comforting about  _ The Other Angel _ . Something that helped heal wounds that were still aching from the Fall. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Crawly discovered  _ The Other Angel’s _ name when he heard Zachriel calling out for him. And again when Adam and Eve were chatting about him. His name was Aziraphale, a kind being who treated every living thing in the Garden with the utmost reverence. Interestingly enough, this included demons. Though Crawly was the only demon who was supposed to be there as of right now. 

And Crawly felt the exciting rush of a silent victory when he found Aziraphale that day. He had been right! 

Currently  _ The Other Angel _ \--Aziraphale--was laying in the grass, wiggling about. His large, white wings were brushing gently against the green and dew-covered blades, his hands tugging gently along the verdant floor. It was an amusing sight for his very sore eyes, as Crawly had spent most of his day trying, and not succeeding in, avoiding Zachriel’s gleaming sword. Finally he had escaped Zachriel once more and was in the sheltered harbor of Aziraphale--who he knew would not attack him blindly. 

The angel had sensed his presence and was rolling over onto his stomach, wings lifting into the air as he did so. Aziraphale planted his elbows into the warm grass and rested his face in both hands. 

“Hello dear _. _ ” He smiled, blue eyes gleaming with joy and love. 

_ Shit _ , Crawly thought to himself,  _ Don’t look at me like that. With all your...love. _

“What on Earth are you doing?” Crawly replied with a tone that ached of amusement. The angel looked down at the grass in a slight moment of guilt and thought. But he looked back up at the snake with his expression as loving as before. 

“We don’t have grass in Heaven yet. It smells nice--and it’s very warm.” 

“Oh yeah? You do this often then?” Crawy asked, knowing the answer. He slithered forward until his face was about two meters away (that’s about 6.5 feet for all you imperial users). The angel did not flinch away, but instead stared at the snake in wonder. 

“Well...I suppose I do. I do actually have a question myself actually--why didn’t they give you a more...human body?” 

“Ssaid it would be less noticeable to you angelss.” 

“Well clearly that didn’t work out. I mean--you slithered right up to me.” 

“Yeaaa, well...I get up to my own personal trouble. As long as I can avoid discorporation...why not messs with a few angelss?” 

“I hardly call this... _ messing _ with a few angels. Though you’ve made Zachriel very cross. You ought to keep your mouth shut about us talking.” Aziraphale warned him. If snakes could roll their eyes, Crawly would be doing so. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I think both ssides would sscrew us over for... _ not _ trying to rip each other’s throats out.”

“Yes...I suppose so.” Aziraphale agreed, drumming his fingers against his cheek. “Gabriel has placed his faith in me. I mean...he gave  _ me _ the Flaming Sword from  _ Her _ . And not Zachriel. Zachriel certainly has more use for it than I do.” 

“Maybe. Though I think that basstard would end up misusing it at the end of the day. God gave it to  _ you _ for a reason, I guess, dunno...er...I mean to say, you don’t use it for meaninglessss slaying of lower level demons.” Crawly chuckled, prompting a smile to break out on Aziraphale’s face. 

“Oh, you really think so? Then yes--I suppose it is in the right hands.” Aziraphale replied, both joy and pride radiating off of him. The snake felt that delight squirming in his stomach yet again.  _ He _ had made Aziraphale  _ smile _ .

“I think I sshould get a more human-like body soon. Or at least the ability to morph into it. I’ll find a way to convince Beelzebub I guess. There are some thingsss I’d like to be able to do.”

“Like?” Aziraphale prompted, still radiating his infectious smile. Surely, if Crawly had the mouth to do so, he would also be smiling right now. 

_ Like running my hands through that ridiculous curly hair of yours _ . 

The demon had tried to stop thinking thoughts like that about the angel. But he found that he couldn’t help himself for one reason or another. They kept coming, and everytime he thought he had escaped them, they returned. 

“Er...well some of those animals are quite soft aren’t they? I mean...it’s hard to feel softness behind scales.”

_ Some of these angels are quite soft, aren’t they? _ Crawly’s thoughts began again. He inwardly chastised himself. 

“Oh yes! Quite. I like the rabbits.” Aziraphale agreed, oblivious to Crawly’s inner turmoil. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	3. Mother Küsters' Trip to Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a description of violence that was enough to make me cry as I was writing it. So please keep that in mind. I've labeled the part where it begins. Be careful--stay safe. And read on if possible... :)

Cherub Aziraphale

Aziraphale had gotten used to the serpent coming around everyday asking him questions and making pleasant conversation. So frequent were their interactions and so forgetful was Aziraphale that he repeatedly made the mistake of forgetting to ask the demon’s name. It irritated the angel greatly because he was becoming very fond of the demon (much as he tried to deny it). With such fondness, one would think Aziraphale would  _ at least _ know his name.

The Cherub was disappointed when he didn’t see black scales slithering out of hiding at the normal time. Maybe the snake wasn’t coming today? Though Aziraphale hoped that he was still coming, as he thought the serpent would tell him if he couldn’t make it to their daily meetings. 

So Aziraphale decided to casually search the Garden for the demon. It wasn’t like there was anything to guard the Eastern gate from at this point anyway, considering he personally knew the demon assigned to Eden. And there was almost nothing outside the Garden that could penetrate the walls. 

Zachriel was sitting by the stream he seemed to have taken to. The other Cherub sat there everyday dipping his toes in the water and watching the humans from his spot. Today he wasn’t watching them though, there were no humans to be seen in his vicinity. Aziraphale vaguely wondered where they were before continuing his search, seemingly unnoticed by Zachriel.

Then he picked up on a smell that he couldn’t help but smile about. Burning wood. So the demon was here after all. 

_ Blasted Serpent! _ Aziraphale wanted to enthusiastically shout as he bounded forward through the trees,  _ How dare you make me look for you! I had some things I wished to speak to you about. _

But he slowed his pace as a scene unfolded in front of him, the grass no longer tickling his feet pleasantly. Instead it itched,  _ burned _ even. The angel crept forward, peering through growth which obscured him from the view of Eve and the Serpent. 

“ _ Eat the apple. It’ll give you... _ ” The snake hissed causing the Cherub’s heart to sink into his stomach. 

That wasn’t good, not at all. That was the one thing the humans were  _ not _ supposed to do. And Aziraphale, as an Angel of the Lord, thought that he ought to get out there and smite that demon. But if he was honest with himself, and being truthful is also something angels ought to be, he didn’t want to. Not because he would have to smite his dear conversational partner, but--

_ Because… _

Eve stood up and began striding over to the tree. Aziraphale reached out his hand as if to stop her, tried to move his unwilling legs and stop what was taking place. But every instinct held him there, as if the Almighty Herself was willing him to watch, even though that was against every order he had been given. 

_ Because I’m curious too.  _

Aziraphale stood perfectly still, watching as both Adam and Eve ate the apple. Peering at the snake as it slithered off in the direction of the Eastern Gate. Aziraphale made a move to follow him but felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Cherub Aziraphale. Angel of the Eastern Gate, bearer of the Flaming Sword.” 

Aziraphale slowly whirled around, his feet stinging from cuts that thorns had made in them. Now he had finally noticed a trail of bloody footprints leading from the direction he came. 

“Ah...the um. The Archangel Michael. This isn’t what--”

A blow to the back of his head cut him off. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Cherub Aziraphale

Aziraphale woke up in Solitary Confinement. It wasn’t the first time he had been put in this painfully bright and cold, steel cell. And sudden awareness of where he was snapped him out of his daze. His eyes made out the thin seams in the wall, indicative of where the door was. Desperately he crawled over to it, his head throbbed and his blood encrusted feet ached, but he still mustered up the energy to pound against the metal. It was startlingly frigid under his fists. 

He couldn’t be here. Not here. Anywhere was better than the Solitary Confinement Cell. Any angel or demon who had been in Solitary would agree. Here he was cut off from Her love and grace. Here he was cut off from the Host. Here was where angels lost their minds and eventually flung themselves into Hell upon release. Solitary made angels lose faith in the Almighty and subsequently Fall. 

“Please let me out!  _ Please _ ! I’ll take anything but  _ this _ .” Aziraphale cried, slamming his arms fruitlessly against the door. He went on like this for hours until his throat was raw and his eyes burning from tears. 

A day later someone opened the door. But for the Angel of the Eastern Gate, it had been an eternity. 

“Aziraphale?” Gabriel called into the Solitary room, his voice softer than Aziraphale had ever heard before. The Cherub had been curled up in the corner of the room, head resting on his knees. He looked up hopefully at the Archangel who was now entirely in the room, door shut behind him. 

“Gabriel…” Aziraphale sniffed, his legs wobbling as he tried to stand up. The Archangel helped him. 

“Look buddy,” Gabriel began, taking a moment to sigh afterwards, “there’s been a lot going on up here. Crazy stuff. The humans aren’t going to be in Eden much longer now.” 

“Oh.” The Cherub replied, crestfallen. Though at the current moment he was more awaiting the news of his personal fate. 

“And then there’s you. Micheal told me you were standing by and...well,  _ watching _ the whole apple business. And not doing anything about it.” Continued the Archangel, whose violet eyes called for an explanation. Aziraphale could almost burst out crying again here and now. 

“I...I didn’t know what they were doing until it...was too late. But yes.” The Cherub choked out, a sob threatening to break out of his through any moment. Hoping the Archangel didn’t see through his lie. Gabriel merely nodded in understanding. 

“Of course, you saw the best in God’s creature. And they unfortunately disappointed you--all of Heaven too. But hey--I got something I think you’ll like. The Metatron spoke to the Almighty about your trial, since we can’t drop anyone from the Seraphim, Cherubim, and Throne choirs without Her consent. And well...it’s your lucky day. She still wants you upstairs.”

Aziraphale let the tears fall, but he smiled. He still had Her. He wouldn’t Fall. Though Gabriel’s countenance, despite it’s uncharacteristic softness, told Aziraphale that Archangel wasn’t finished. 

“Great, right? No need for tears, you’re still an agent of Heaven. But uh...here’s the thing. The other Archangels aren’t too happy about what happened in Eden. I don’t exactly know what Michael has in mind yet, but there is going to be a punishment for what happened down there.” 

Aziraphale nodded, expecting this. Though his eyes widened in horror as he looked around the steel cell, his blurry and terrified reflection trembling as he made eye contact with it. 

“Not more Solitary Confinement? Oh Gabriel, I can’t--”

“No, I don’t think that’s what they had in mind. Solitary is pretty mean, but Michael is meaner.” Gabriel huffed ominously. But for Aziraphale that had been a relief, as nothing was worse than Solitary in his eyes. They briefly stared at each other in silence before the Archangel recommenced. 

“The only thing I know is that they’re planning on sending you back to Earth indefinitely...and unaccompanied. You will be mostly alone apart from checkups and coming back to Heaven for the occasional meeting.” 

The Archangel was sad, and Aziraphale knew this. Yes, Gabriel could be insufferable sometimes, but he had a very rare understanding side to him when it came to delicate matters. Though Aziraphale supposed there was nothing very delicate about Gabriel. 

It might help to understand the angelic/demonic social dynamic. Generally speaking angels and demons don’t act alone. We’ve already established that they’re social creatures. So usually they work in pairs unless the Head Office is shorthanded. To send an angel on an indefinite assignment without a partner was unthinkable until the Archangels had debated for a certain number of hours and come up with the idea. 

Demons, as we’ve established, don't work alone either. But Crawly had no friends in Hell as of now, and didn’t really intend on making friends. Crawly thought everyone he had met in Hell thus far were intolerable (they were demons after all), so he hadn’t put in a request to be assigned with anyone yet. Whereas Aziraphale tried to give all of his angel kin the benefit of the doubt and had what he considered to be the honor of working with his brother. Though now that privilege, which had previously been seen as a basic angel rectitude, was stripped from him.

Aziraphale was just glad he wouldn’t Fall. 

“That’s not all they’re planning on throwing at you though. We’re having a meeting today to sort it out, and I’ll be back tomorrow to tell you about it.” 

Aziraphale wasn’t going to Fall. Everything would be alright. 

“For now, I’ll need you to hand me your sword. I don’t think you’ll resist your punishment, but I gotta take it either way.” 

The Cherub nodded and drew his sword from the sheath which hung limply at his side without the weight of the holy weapon inside it. No flames sprung to life as he passed it to the Archangel. It merely effulged Aziraphale’s reflection back at him sorrowfully.

“Thanks. Well, see ya tomorrow.” Gabriel replied, bouncing back from his momentary weakness with one of his signature smiles.

“Yes. Of course.” Was the only thing Aziraphale could answer as Gabriel snapped the heavy cell door open and shut corresponding with the entrance of Heaven’s hallways and the exit of the Solitary Confinement Room.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cherub Aziraphale/Archangel Jegudiel ***GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF VIOLENCE***

Aziraphale was in his True Form, both pairs of hands cuffed together. Currently he was walking with two Powers on either side of him to make sure he didn’t run off. Of course, a Cherub could easily take out a Power or two, as they were five choirs below the Cherubim. But the Archangels Gabriel and Sandalphon were not too far ahead of them, speaking in hushed utterances. And Aziraphale wouldn’t defy them anyway, as he had no desire to rebel. He was not Falling after all, just being given a punishment for his mindlessness.

He could make out some of the conversation between Gabriel and Sandalphon. 

“This is hardly what  _ She _ wants, I don’t see why we have to do it. I mean, I feel like sending him to Earth  _ alone _ for  _ probably _ Eternity is enough.” Gabriel grumbled with displeasure. 

“It’s what Micheal wants.” Sandalphon shrugged. 

“Maybe it’s time I had a word with the Almighty about Micheal then. She’s been calling a lot of questionable shots in  _ Her _ name.” 

“Maybe it is time then. You would be a good choice for the new head of Head Office.”

“I--you really think so?  _ Sandalphon _ , I think that’s a great idea.”

“It’s a new era.” 

“Indeed. I think my first order of business would be to stop these nightmarish trials. I mean, what are we? Hell?” 

“The show must go on in a more orderly fashion.” Sandalphon agreed, his smarmy voice filled with adoration.

“That’s what I like to hear.” 

They walked up to a very ornate door. Aziraphale had been here on many occasions, but it had never before been for his own actions. This was the large room where all the choirs gathered during a trial. And as the Powers at his sides moved forward to open the doors for the two Archangels and the Cherub, he saw them all. 

Angels, archangels (distinguishable from Archangels with a capital A), Principalities, Powers, Virtues, Dominions, Thrones, his Cherubim brethren, Seraphim, and the remaining Archangels with Micheal seating in the middle of them. About 10 million angels, all of them staring straight at him. Aziraphale looked from Sandalphon to Gabriel who were waiting for Aziraphale to walk into the courtroom in front of them. 

“I was not made aware that this was a public punishment.” Aziraphale’s ox head said in a low but pridefully pleasant voice. His human head was too busy swallowing down nervous lumps of garbled words which were not to be spoken.

“Sorry. Meant to tell you but I forgot.” Gabriel shrugged with a strained look of apprehension on his visage. The Archangel looked extremely uncomfortable. So Aziraphale’s ox head nodded a passive acceptance of Gabriel’s apology before Aziraphale walked ahead of them. The courtroom was entirely silent, all eyes watching the shamed angel stride up to stand in front of the Judge’s bench where all the Archangels sat. His empty sword’s sheath bumping awkwardly against his thigh as he strode to the center of the room. 

“Cherub Aziraphale,” Began Michael once Gabriel and Sandalphon had taken their seats, “you stand before us today charged with treason.”

_ Treason? _ Aziraphale thought to himself,  _ it wasn’t like I was consorting with demons. Just chatting with one. But I never betrayed Heaven. I just...watched the Humans eat the apple...er...making no real effort to actually stop them. _

“We have spoken with the Almighty God, because Cherubim such as yourself are too sacred to Fall without Her consent. And She has granted you clemency. Her love knows no bounds.” Michael continued, seemingly upset with her last few remarks. The Archangel  _ wanted _ Aziraphale to Fall and he knew it. What he didn’t know was why. Yes, he had watched in curiosity as Adam and Eve bit into the apple but that wasn’t anything personal against Michael or anyone in Heaven. This distaste of Aziraphale, for whatever reason, was personal.

“Despite Her mercy, we have determined that your actions require severe consequences. In addition to a friendless and indefinite assignment to Earth, the Archangel Council has decided to do what has not been done before.” Micheal stopped dramatically, whispers of outcry against a solitary mission filling the room before they were stopped by the warning glare of Gabriel.

“You are being demoted from Cherub to Principality. And accordingly you will give up not only your second pairs of wings, but your second arms as well as your ox, lion, and eagle heads. They are a privilege that only Cherubim possess, a Principality has no need of them.”

The crowd of angels roared in protest at this, a loud and cacophonous fulmination that filled all of Aziraphale’s senses before they were silenced by an indignant Gabriel. 

“We  _ will  _ have peace in this Courtroom!” The Archangel cried, a nervous edge to his voice. 

All were silent once more, angelic animosity and anticipation combining and filling the room like a foul odor.

“Cherub Aziraphale, kneel downwards.” Micheal commanded, to which Aziraphale obeyed with all heads staring at the floor. He expected his heads, wings, and arms to be miracled away by some force of immense power. But no one, with the exception of the Almighty, had that much power at their disposal. He should have known better. 

“Archangel Jegudiel, you will temporarily be granted use of the Flaming Sword of Cherub Aziraphale for he has no use of it in his current state. Use it to cut the fabric of his body into the form of Principality and only return it to him when the divine job is good and done.”

It took a minute for Michael’s words to register in Aziraphale’s mind, but when they did he got to his feet and began backing away as Jegudiel approached him. Aziraphale’s own sword was in the Archangel’s hand, aflame with a hateful fire unlike anything the Cherub had ever seen out of his own blade. Whenever Aziraphale had drawn the sword before, it was always a gentle fire. It was a beautiful orange and yellow glow that had looked as soft as was possible for something as dangerous as fire.

Now it was a murderous red. So agitated and wild was the Flaming Sword that even Jegudiel looked frightened by it. The sword knew its owner and was wrathful that it was in the wrong hands with the intent of harming said individual. God Herself had meant it for Aziraphale. But despite having a soul of its own, it was still only an object and would be used for whatever purpose its holder had in mind. 

The Powers who had walked alongside Aziraphale earlier were now forcing him back to the ground. One of them grabbed the curly white hair of Aziraphale's human head, avoiding the snapping mouths of the other heads narrowly and slamming his face into the floor. The other secured Aziraphale’s upper set of wings. A few more Powers came over and pushed the other three heads roughly to the floor, successfully pinning down the Cherub.

“Please don’t do this!” Aziraphale cried, though it was somewhat muffled by the floor. A liquid trickled out of his human noise from the force of the earlier slam. Out of the eyes of his lion head he could see Jegudiel approaching with the sword raised. He could faintly hear hollerings of protest and horror coming from the crowds around him, though at the moment all he could clearly hear were his own thoughts swirling about his brain in an attempt at self-preservation. 

“ **I don’t want this to happen! Please stop!** ” His lion head roared, begging to be saved. 

The Flaming Sword, previously high in the air, came down with a whooshing sound and subsequently a sound akin to liquid static followed as blood landed in all of the nearby nooks and crannies the way paint bleeds into the fabric of a canvas. The lion head--Voice Of Wild and Fervent Desires--rolled towards the Judge’s bench and disintegrated into a thousand glowing pieces which floated upwards and vanished. 

Jegudiel examined himself with disgust, his white robe permanently stained with the malignant actions of the day. He looked over to where the Disgraced Cherub was writhing in pain, screaming and begging for him to stop. The Powers were having trouble keeping him still. Cherubim were very strong after all, but with six different Powers holding onto his wings and remaining heads it would be hard for him to make any kind of escape. Not to mention the pain radiating from the empty space where a beheading had taken place--it kept him writhing on the floor helplessly. 

The crowd behind them was getting progressively louder and outraged, if that was even possible. Screams of horror could be heard throughout Heaven, echoing even to the Hell below, curious demons wondering where this faint sound was coming from. Sounds of screams weren’t unusual in Hell, but the sound was holy and therefore unusual.

The might of the Archangels and Seraphim kept everyone in their choirs where they stood and nothing could be done to help the Cherub now. All the angels could do was watch in terror at the events or look away in shame for their inability to help. 

Aziraphale’s Ox Head stared at Jegudiel in meek defiance. It would not beg for it’s life like the Lion, it was too gracious for that. It would rather remain subversive till that last moment, somehow managing to be more prideful than the Lion head Aziraphale had previously had. Jegudiel wouldn’t have thought it possible.

“Make it quick, dear. I want to end this needless suffering as soon as possible.” Aziraphale’s Ox Head told Jegudiel as he came around. The Power that was holding it let go, and it did not struggle or flinch away when the fiery metal met the sweet flesh of it’s strong neck. The Voice of Domestic Tranquility was cut from the Cherub and soared through the air, exploding into light before it could land on anything. 

Jegudiel saw red, and that was all he saw. Not the kind of red you see when vexed but rather when your eyes get covered in the blood of your victim both literally and metaphorically. 

He didn’t want to do this--and he shouldn’t have to. But if this was what happened to higher angels when She decided not to let them Fall then he would rather obey every command Michael gave him. 

Aziraphale’s Eagle head glared at him, hard and honest. Then it let out a shriek of resentment. 

“You can  _ kill  _ me, but you’ll never  _ restrain _ me. I’m free, and there’s nothing you can do about it! Not when I’m  _ gone _ !” 

It let out one last intelligible cry before it’s feathers went flying into the air above them, dissipating into echoes of heartbroken sound which hushed every angel in the courtroom. The Voice of Glory and Freedom screaming it’s last bitter salvo. 

A great many angels were crying now--weeping, sobbing. However you wish to describe it. Grief and darkness settled over the room like the removal of heat from a room when the last spark in the fireplace is snuffed out. 

For the first time since the cruel demotion began, Aziraphale was quiet.

“Archangel Jegudiel. Continue.” 

Jegudiel saw a vision of himself kneeling downwards while a dark doppelganger of himself sawed his wings off. He swallowed a sob and came back to reality with tears in his eyes. The Archangel with a borrowed Flaming Sword turned his back on the other Archangels and approached Aziraphale’s second pair of wings.

“P-please…” Aziraphale begged weakly, voice hoarse from the ceaseless screams of pain that had echoed hauntingly through the hall. The Disgraced Cherub coughed a wet and sickly cough and the sound of liquid hitting the floor echoed throughout the courtroom.

“I’m sorry.” Jegudiel whispered to Aziraphale softly as his free hand grabbed one of Aziraphale’s wings from the second set. It trembled in his hand. 

The sword tore Aziraphale’s wing from him prompting a blood curdling scream to fill the room once more as one of his most sacred parts was ripped from him. The skin near the wing was charred, a fourth degree burn revealing bones that once held a beautiful wing. 

The other wing struggled out of his grip multiple times. Jegudiel had to hold it firm in order to saw through the bone. The struggle left a worse marking Aziraphale than the last, though a matching spot nonetheless. No corporation would hide this, even if Aziraphale tried to present it away. The angel would always have these scars no matter what form he took. He would spend an eternity with evidence of disgrace on his naked back. 

The easiest job was the second pair of arms. He cut them just below the shoulders, as easy as cutting jelly with a hot knife. The blood sizzled and boiled as two arms dropped lifelessly to the floor, hot from holy fire. 

Blood and feathers stained the floor of the courtroom, the arms and second wings still there. These sacred items would not fade away, but rather continue to exist as permanent evidence that Aziraphale had once been a Cherub. The Powers let go of Aziraphale and picked up the detached wings and arms, carrying them wherever they had been assigned to do so.

The flames on Aziraphale’s sword withered away until the blade was cold. Jegudiel dropped it in front of the gored angel and cleared away Aziraphale’s permanent blood from his clothes. Slowly he stepped away from the disgraced Cherub and went back to his seat, all of the angelic choirs watching in horror. 

A few seconds passed and Aziraphale’s True Biology morphed his shoulders back together and accommodated the single head he had left. He lay flat against the floor, his remaining wings more red than they were white. He was entirely naked, save for the empty sheath that hung around his waist, it’s sword lying above the owner’s head. 

“Get up.” A cold voice called to him. Jegudiel didn’t register it and didn’t want to register it. His heart ached for the poor Cherub that had just been disgraced. That he had just  _ helped _ disgrace. A sea of self-loathing filled Jegudiel’s chest. 

Sure, he had done the same amount of atrocity during the War. But it had been directed towards demons who would have done the same to him. This was a comrade, unable to fight back. A comrade who would never do the same to him. 

Slowly Aziraphale sat up, coughing up more blood as he did so. Though he was naked, from a distance you wouldn’t be able to tell. One would think he was wearing a crimson robe from afar. And one would have preferred to believe that naive assumption. 

The disgraced Cherub’s eyes were dull and lifeless, a few of them pasted shut from crying thick, red liquids. 

“From this day forth you shall be known as Principality Aziraphale.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Principality Aziraphale

One, two, three, four, five…

Aziraphale was counting the feathers on the floor of the Solitary Confinement room. He had pulled them out himself. Yesterday he learned true physical pain in the courtroom, and found that it was an adequate method for dealing with another type of pain. The pain that was jumbling around in his single head, pushing memories of the previous day into his mind and then out of his mind again, only to shove them back in. The despair and loneliness.

**_Everything in one head...everything in one head...one place._ **

**_One._ **

**_One time._ **

**_One._ **

**_A single pair of wings. Single head. One--one...all comes together to be one--_ **

He thought of Zachriel who couldn’t be at the trial. His dear brother who was left on Earth to keep watch over the Garden. There was supposed to be another angel there helping him out. 

He thought of the gentle serpent demon who he enjoyed talking to. If the Eagle head were here, it would be blaming the demon. But Aziraphale’s single human head knew that the snake was just doing his job. And besides...he could never have had any idea of what happened in Heaven afterwards. Sure Hell knew when there was a ruckus upstairs, but never the specifics. Only when there  _ was _ a ruckus, that a ruckus existed. The same was true of Heaven. The two realms were so near yet so far apart. If you were upstairs and laying on the floor, sometimes you can hear the childish tantrums and fiendish parental chastising that followed. And when downstairs quieted down, sometimes you could hear the neighbors upstairs chatting amongst themselves about juicy gossip and laughing boisterously about it. 

Somehow that little space between the floorboards was unaware of both residents and their ruckus. That’s what made it all the more appealing to Aziraphale.

**_All personalities and memories meet in one head. Just one. Not two, three--no, not even four. One Aziraphale, a single entity. Alone. Principality Aziraphale, weak and small. Once a Cherub, never a Cherub._ **

****

The Principality was no longer naked, the wounds on his neckline had closed, and he was now clean. The only issue he had was that the fourth degree burns on his back were still bleeding along with the shoulders that used to be attached to the second pair of arms. His large remaining pair of wings were bleeding, but that was due to his own feather-plucking. 

He would cry to pass the time, but he had already done that dozens of times and was growing tired of it. Not to mention he could barely speak anymore, his True Form’s vocal cords were worn. He needed to get back into his body, and soon. It would stop the bleeding and he would be able to speak again.

As if in sync with his thoughts, the cell door opened and Gabriel appeared before him, not bothering to close the door behind him.

**_This is hardly what She wants, I don’t see why we have to do it. I mean, I feel like sending him to Earth alone for probably Eternity is enough._ **

“Oh...Good Lord  _ Aziraphale _ …I’m sorry I...I don’t even know what to say…” Gabriel seemed to be at a loss. Aziraphale was the same, in a different way. He had many things to say, but his ragged throat wouldn’t allow him to say them. “I didn’t know they were planning on doing it that way. I...er...Aziraphale…” 

The Archangel swallowed and stepped forward. 

“I’m not very good at this.” Gabriel chuckled sadly, picking up one of Aziraphale’s bloody feathers and decidedly putting it down after a moment that was a mix of clarity and horror. He extended his hand once more, this time towards the Principality himself. 

“I’ve got some good news. I’m in charge of your mission on Earth...so you won’t have to face any of those other guys again. Well...not in that way at least.” 

Aziraphale took Gabriel’s hand and allowed it to guide him to his feet. The Archangel held Aziraphale’s hand in attempted comfort, both of his firm palms clutching it sympathetically. 

“I’m not done yet though. The reason I’m monitoring your mission is because I’m the new head of Head Office.” Gabriel said, offering a small smile. 

“R-really?” Aziraphale finally croaked, mildly happy for his new boss who nodded excitedly. 

“Yeah. Well...let’s just say  _ She _ wasn’t too happy with what went down yesterday. Angels don’t get demoted unless we Fall. So Micheal’s been taken a step down and now I’m in charge.” 

Aziraphale grinned weakly which seemed to snap Gabriel out of his temporary moment of glory. 

“Let’s get you to your body. Zachriel’s just gotten news of what’s happened to you and is waiting on Earth for your arrival.” 

_ Eden. The Serpent. Zachriel. The humans. _

He wanted them right now. Their warmth and peace. So Aziraphale let Gabriel guide him down the cold hallways, blood staining his footsteps into the ground as they walked in the direction of Gabriel’s Office. When they walked in the first thing Aziraphale noticed was all of the boxes laying around.

“I’m getting Micheal’s old office and she’s getting mine.” Gabriel explained upon noticing Aziraphale’s wandering eyes. The Principality nodded and then watched Gabriel walk to the corner where Aziraphale’s body was standing. Aziraphale wasted no time stepping into it, feeling relief as his vocal cords were soothed and his burns reduced to charred, scabbing wounds which would soon turn into ominously black scars. The feathers on his wings grew back in quickly, blood disappearing.

“Let’s get you back to Earth, Aziraphale. You can relax there for awhile until we give you your next task.” 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	4. East of Eden

Cherub Zachriel

Zachriel forced the mass of feathers into Eric’s palms and turned on his heels, attempting to stalk away. But the demon quickly recovered from the surprise feather attack and dropped them to stop Zachriel. 

“Hey wait up!” Eric exclaimed, immediately letting go when Zachriel swiveled on his feet once more, hot tears of anger streaming down his face. The demon backed away, unease settling horribly in his stomach. 

“Do you know what they’re doing upstairs, right at this moment?” The Cherub growled in a strange voice. If he was in his True Form it would be the lion head speaking. Eric shook his head and picked up a few feathers, eyes flitting nervously from Zachriel to the direction of Hell’s staircase. 

“They’re  _ demoting _ my brother. And do you know what that means?”

Eric looked absolutely terrified and said nothing. Zachriel wanted both to punch the demon and hug him at the same time. He needed some kind of closure and he needed it quickly.

“He’s...Fallen?” Eric trembled, reminding Zachriel painfully of Musamiel before he Fell. The Cherub felt something in him release and he let out a sigh, legs buckling beneath him. Zachriel fell to his knees and stared into the soft grass beneath him. 

“No...they’re doing something that’s never been done before.  _ She _ doesn’t want him to Fall. So you know what those  _ pricks _ in Heaven are doing?” Zachriel hissed spitefully, letting out a soft sob before continuing. He didn’t dare meet the demon’s gaze. 

“They’re cutting off everything that makes him distinctly Cherub. The heads, arms, and his second pair of wings too. And they’re sending him on an indefinite Earth mission  _ alone _ . He’s not gonna have anyone down here with him for who knows how long.” 

Everything was silent for a moment. Finally the demon spoke. 

“He won’t be alone.” 

Zachriel saw a pair of knees drop before his own, black robe fluttering downwards to cover them. The Cherub looked up and was met with Eric’s face, not too far from his own. 

“I-...what do you mean?” Zachriel swallowed, reaching up to palm down a strand of hair that had sprung out of place. More of a nervous twitch than an actual fixing of hair, as it sprung right back out of place again. 

“Crawly’s been assigned indefinitely here too. Not as a punishment actually, but as a commendation. Just like Aziraphale, he’s alone, though he’s alone by choice. We’ve been watching them from the beginning, and the two of them have been getting on, right?” 

Zachriel nodded, almost smiling at the memory of watching his brother chat with the snake. The two of them were immediate friends. Not unlike Zachriel and Eric themselves actually. 

“Then your job just became  _ really _ easy. They’re gonna be up here with each other for a long time, both of them alone.”

Then Zachriel did smile. And Eric smiled too. 

It seemed Crawly and Aziraphale weren’t the only angel-demon pair that worked well together. 

“Will I see you again tomorrow?” The angel asked hopefully. Eric’s smile grew, toothier. 

“Maybe.” The demon replied, standing up. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Principality Aziraphale

_ Oh my brother...what have they done to you… _

Zachriel had said that to him earlier in the day when they had their bittersweet reunion. Now Aziraphale was alone, Zachriel going out into the Garden to tie up loose ends while Aziraphale waited for the humans to come to Eastern Gate. They had to come at some point so that he could let them out.

_ What have they done to me? _ He thought bitterly. 

Aziraphale saw the humans coming and looked down at his sword, which was currently burning with its normal gentle glow. He loved it and hated it. It was the object of his nightmares, but it was also the object that  _ She _ meant for him. And he still loved Her--still had faith in Her.  _ She _ didn’t want him to Fall. 

The humans, Adam and Eve. Eve was pregnant...when did that happen? He hadn’t seen it happen. He  _ had _ seen the apple business. How much had gone on in this Garden that he hadn’t seen? But the snake was just doing his job--and most of the time he wasn’t even causing trouble. Just slithering around and casually talking to angels. Being friendly. Demons weren’t friendly, were they? 

Humans. Flaming Sword. 

In the distance, beyond the Garden where the desert lay, he heard an eagle cry. Following that, an ox bellowed, much closer than the eagle. 

Then a lion roared just outside the Garden. 

Humans...Flaming Sword. 

The angel flew down behind the humans and hid his wings as they turned around in surprise. He held out his sword to them. 

“Here is my Flaming Sword, which I am gifting to you. If anything attacks, use it well. It can keep you warm on cold nights, which I can assure you will have.” 

Hesitantly, Adam took it, both humans watching him with wonder in their eyes. Adam nodded to him. 

“Thank you.” 

Aziraphale thought of blood.  **_From this day forth you shall be known as Principality Aziraphale._ ** He felt uneasy, as if he might throw-up. Which is a silly notion considering: a.) he’s an angel, b.) there was nothing in his stomach to regurgitate. 

“Don’t thank me...and...don’t let the sun go down on you here.”

The Flaming Sword raised to cut off his heads. The Flaming Sword raised to cut a lion’s head. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Serpent Demon Crawly

  
  


It had been a few days since he was given the order to cause chaos in Eden--which he did. Adam and Eve had eaten the apple. And Crawly had gotten an assignment that satisfied him greatly. Indefinitely on Earth and away from the filthiness of Hell.

But where was the curious being known as Aziraphale? 

The angel hadn’t been there since the day of the apple-eating business, and Crawly had admittedly been excited to tell Aziraphale about his fabulous commission. A conversation he had overheard between Zachriel and a lesser angel (who had apparently come to Earth to assist the Cherub in Aziraphale’s absence) gave him his answer. 

The humans were supposed to leave in a few days. Apparently there was a trial being conducted in Heaven holding up the banishment of Adam and Eve, and Aziraphale had been summoned to this trial. 

“Why are you still on Earth? You’re Aziraphale’s brother after all, you  _ should _ be at that trial.” The lesser angel had asked to which Zachriel sighed sadly. 

“I should, but someone needed to stay here. I had no choice anyway, they  _ forced _ me to stay here. They told me that Aziraphale didn’t need me...said he was strong enough to take it on his own.”

“Well Aziraphale  _ is _ strong. I’d say he’s probably the strongest in the choir. Besides, he’ll be back in a few days anyway. Fresh and new.” 

“You...you don’t get it. What they’re going to do...” 

Crawly didn’t really care to listen in on the rest. Aziraphale was coming back soon and Crawly had the newfound ability to be human-shaped. And as soon as the angel came back, he was going to pridefully show off his new look. He slithered a familiar path that led east. 

He had known that he would see no angel perched on the wall at the Eastern Gate. But the lack of Aziraphale’s presence still disappointed him, as it had for the past couple of days. 

That was ok. He could wait. And in the meantime…

Crawly morphed into his human form feeling a fresh uptick in his senses. Slowly he got to his knees and rolled around the way he had seen Aziraphale doing a few days before. It was a ridiculous idea, but the soft and grassy floor felt good beneath him. 

“Well Aziraphale...I have to admit. This is  _ really _ nice.” He said as he gazed up into the sky. The sun shone down warmly onto his body and wings. 

Now that he was without Aziraphale’s presence--he got to thinking about some questions, like usual. But they were all focused on the angel, which wasn’t uncommon behavior for him lately. It was hard to get his mind to focus on anything  _ but _ Aziraphale these days. 

Why was he so nice to Crawly? What was his rank? Isn’t he a Cherub like Zachriel? Why was he given the Flaming Sword? What was the trial for? Did...did Aziraphale know ----------? 

Crawly made a mental note to ask Aziraphale what his rank was when the angel returned, because having a friend in high places (pun intended) could be useful for him. He rolled over to the stone wall and pressed up against it. Slowly he brought his black wings over his body and fell asleep there, shaded from the sun by the angel’s perching wall. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Serpent Demon Crawly

Crawly woke up to the sound of crying. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked around to see he was still in the Garden. He had fallen asleep there in his human form. 

Now that he was awake, the crying was actually  _ sobbing _ . Thick in the air was the smell of blood and immense pain--suffering. He would almost think he was back in Hell if it weren’t for the obvious Eden landscape and sensations. 

The serpent decided to wait until the sobbing angel calmed down. He wasn’t good at the whole... _ feelings _ thing. But he did like Aziraphale. So--as a snake--he slithered up and onto the wall and eased into his human form once to make a grand reveal of what he looked like to Aziraphale. 

But the angel was staring out into the desert where the demon was surprised to see Adam and Eve fighting a lion. 

_ Oh yeah. I almost forgot about that bit.  _

“Well that went down like a lead balloon.” Crawly said to him, not yet daring to meet Aziraphale’s anxious gaze. Something was wrong--aside from the humans having already been banished while he was asleep. No...something was wrong with  _ the angel _ .

_ Well clearly. Remember the way he was crying? _

Aziraphale didn’t smell of honey or leaves. He smelled thickly of blood, pain, grief...hopelessness. But a quick glance to Aziraphale’s corporation revealed that the angel was fine. No--the smell was coming from another plane. 

Aziraphale’s  _ True Form _ smelled like that and the smell was oozing out into his body. That was never a good sign, that meant he had been injured, likely in Heaven. Either that or someone else had been injured, their blood on Aziraphale. An uncomfortable feeling settled in Crawly’s stomach. Aziraphale  _ looked _ fine. 

“S-sorry--what was that?” Aziraphale replied with a little nervous chuckle, looking Crawly’s human form up and down. The demon was a little disappointed that the angel didn’t comment on it--though the ominous scent coming from the angel made him ignore that disappointment.

“I said: ‘well that went down like a lead balloon.” He repeated, making eye contact with the angel. Aziraphale’s eyes were not loving and gentle like they usually were. Crawly was officially upset by whatever was going on. 

“Yes-- _ yes _ . It did rather.”

“Bit of an overreaction if you ask me.” Crawly began, leaning towards the angel, “I can’t see what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway.”

“Well...well it must  _ be _ bad....er. I’m sorry, I never actually asked you your name.” 

“Crawly.” The demon replied. 

They finally knew each other’s names. Not just fragments. They were Aziraphale and Crawly now--and the two of them knew it. A story that had ended picked up with a much longer and more wild sequel. 

“ _ Crawly _ ,” Aziraphale repeated while resuming his point, “otherwise...you wouldn’t have tempted them into it.”

“Ah...well. They just said ‘get up there and make some trouble.’” 

“Well obviously...you’re a demon. It’s what you do.” Aziraphale said in a rather pointed way. Though by the look in his eyes, he didn’t mean any offense by it.

“It’s not very subtle of the Almighty. Fruit tree in the middle of the Garden with a ‘Don’t Touch’ sign. Why not put it on the top of a high mountain? Or on the Moon?” He huffed, his eyes watchful on a very tense Aziraphale. The angel regarded the sky with a quick glance.

“Makes you wonder what God’s really planning.”

“Best not to speculate. It’s all part of the Great Plan. It’s not for us to understand...it’s ineffable.” The angel finished, looking very proud of himself. 

_ Well at least he doesn’t look like ‘misery incarnate’ anymore. If misery was an angel, that is. Although on the whole, if he was something incarnate, it would probably be ‘anxiety incarnate’.  _

“The Great Plan’s  _ ineffable _ ?”

“Exactly. It is beyond understanding and incapable of being put into words...” The angel rambled. Crawly had stopped listening and was instead examining the angel’s figure. Something was different. The demon’s eyes rested on the empty sheath that hung at Aziraphale’s side.

“Didn’t you have a Flaming Sword?” 

The angel looked extremely sheepish, “uh…”

“You  _ did _ , it was flaming like anything. We even talked about it once--what happened to it?”

The angel began sputtering wordlessly, shaking his head in some sort of denial that he had yet to vocalize. His eyes quickly flitted upwards and then back down and to the side again. 

“Lost it already, have you?” Crawly teased, though he was genuinely curious and awaited a response. 

“...gave it away.” The angel muttered quietly and quickly, looking away from the demon. Crawly’s eyes widened in disbelief. 

“You  _ what _ ?” 

“I gave it  _ away!” _ Came Aziraphale indignantly, a plethora of emotions rushing into his eyes all at once. Crawly had never seen this reaction out of the angel before. 

Truly, it was now the tingly fire in Crawly’s chest that was flaming like anything. He couldn’t help but form some kind of surprised smile as he watched and listened to the anxious angel.

“There are  _ vicious _ animals! And it’s going to be cold out there and..and she’s  _ expecting _ already. So I said ‘here you go, flaming sword, don’t thank me...and don’t let the sun go down on you here.’” The angel explained defensively. Crawly was still stunned and said nothing in reply.

“I hope I didn’t do the  _ wrong _ thing.” Aziraphale said in a sad and soft voice that broke Crawly from his trance. 

“Oh, you’re an angel. I don’t think you  _ can _ do the wrong thing.” Crawly replied, satisfied when a smile broke out on the angel’s face--a little bit of his gentle love returning to his warm blue eyes.

“Oh-- _oh_ _thank you_! Thank you. It’s been bothering me.” The angel gushed, wiggling his head in a nod. 

The two of them watched as Adam fought a lion in the not-too-far distance, Eve standing cautiously behind him. The Flaming Sword jabbed at the lion, landing a blow that made the angel wince. 

The demon began to feel anxious himself. Maybe he had been hanging around Aziraphale for too long and was starting to catch some of the angel’s anxiety.

“...I’ve been worrying too actually.” Crawly confided, “what if I did the right thing with the whole ‘eat the apple’ business. A demon can get in a lot of trouble for doing the right thing. Though I got a commendation for it so i guess Hell approved anyway.” 

“Oh...rest assured Crawly, you certainly did the wrong thing.” Aziraphale said darkly--a tone that made Crawly uncomfortable. 

“Yeah? How are you so sure?” He asked, hoping his discomfort wasn’t audible in his voice. Aziraphale was looking into the distance, expression unreadable. 

“Well I can’t tell you much about it--it was...not pleasant. But there was a trial in Heaven. Surely you noticed my absence. It concerned your little temptation.”

Crawly felt relieved himself now, though a little concerned for the smell of blood and what that might mean. And he struggled to restrain his curiosity, as Aziraphale would not divulge the events of the trial. He left it alone. 

“Well...funny if we got it both wrong, eh?” Crawly began, trying to lighten the mood, “if I did the good thing and you did the bad?” 

They exchanged glances and began chuckling--though it was short-lived as the angel’s anxiety caught up with him, his smile falling. 

“ _ No _ ! That wouldn’t be  _ funny  _ at all!”

Crawly shrugged. The first thunder began to rumble around them as the rain clouds moved in. The demon expected the to feel the first drops of rain on his face and prepared to retreat to a drier place but they never landed on him. Instead, a shadow fell over him. He flinched, remembering his essence being torn from him, modified, and put back in. But looking up, he saw Aziraphale’s wing sheltering him. There was a small shadow of a smile on the angel’s face. 

_ Oh. Oh! Interesting... _

The demon moved closer, ever aware of the angel’s body heat as he did so. It reminded of a question he had wanted to ask Aziraphale.

“What’s your rank? Are you a Cherub? Like Zachriel?” He asked the angel. Aziraphale frowned slightly, eyebrows knitting upwards in an almost...sentimental manner. 

“Ye--er...no. I’m a Principality.” 

Crawly would tease him about lying--it definitely sounded like he was lying. But his answer was sound due to the fact that he had a ‘Principality Ring’ on his finger. And angels didn’t lie,  _ of course _ . Though Aziraphale was different. Aziraphale had smiled and waved when he first met Crawly. Instead of smiting him, he chatted pleasantly with the demon. Aziraphale had rolled around in the grass and told Crawly that he missed a friend who had Fallen. An angel who was currently sheltering a demon from the first rain with his wing. He was  _ The Other Angel _ , who gave his Flaming Sword--a weapon straight from God--to the humans. 

“Why give you the sword? Instead of Zachriel that is--he outranks you by quite a bit.”

The angel’s hair and clothing had begun to look damp. 

“Well it’s as you said...God must’ve thought I was better suited to it.” The angel replied, his voice sounding strangely worn now that the demon was closer. But alas, immediately following Aziraphale’s comment, Crawly felt a little spark of demonic energy and grinned inwardly. 

_ That _ was a lie. Call it what you will, a demonic-lie detector? 

“Thought you were better suited to it? Principality over Cherub?” He questioned, glee in his voice. 

“I suppose.” 

_Another lie._  
“I find that hard to believe, Aziraphale.” 

The angel looked over at the demon who loomed close by, their shoulders almost touching. 

“What are you suggesting? Gabriel, for some reason, gave  _ me _ the sword and not Zachriel. Clearly a mistake, since I gave it away. But  _ She _ still intended it for me.” 

That wasn’t a lie. What was the angel hiding? Aziraphale turned his head away from the demon. 

“It’s just strange that you’re a Principality. You were given the more important job as well.”

The Principality didn’t reply. His eyes were dull and on the horizon again. And he was soaked through, looking thoroughly miserable once more.

“You know,” began Crawly, “I’m on an indefinite Earth assignment. They’re pretty proud of me downstairs.” 

“Me too. About the indefinite Earth assignment.” Aziraphale replied quietly. 

“Really?” Crawly began happily. He hadn’t made friends in Hell, but maybe he could make friends on Earth. Someone Heaven-sent, mind you, but it didn’t really matter at this point. 

“I have experience with the humans now, which is valuable.” 

As credible as that sounded, Crawly detected the lie. He decided not to ask about it, wanting to cheer the angel up instead. 

The demon pushed his right wing upwards, rubbing against Aziraphale’s left one as he tried to return the favor. He should’ve done this a little while ago, as Aziraphale was shivering slightly beside him. A white feather landed on Crawly’s shoulder, big and beautiful. The demon subtly tucked it into his robe, thankful Aziraphale didn’t notice. 

Nearby were another angel and another demon, watching Aziraphale and Crawly with smiles on their faces. They had done their part in getting the two together once more. 

“Give away any of my feathers yet?” Zachriel asked Eric, chartreuse eyes still focused on the couple perched on the gate. 

“No.” Eric replied, hoping to mask the guilt welling up in his throat, “a little too soon.”

In truth, the demon had stashed all the feathers away in the little personal locker he owned. He didn’t know when he would start putting them in his reports...but for now he’d keep them.

“Looks like Crawly just tucked away one of Aziraphale’s loose ones for _personal_ _examination_. Feathers...angel feathers. Demon feathers. They have meaning attached to them, I suppose.” Zachriel said with a wistful chuckle. 

Looks like Crawly and Eric had something in common. But the Disposable Demon had one upped the Serpent Demon. He had an entire moult and Crawly only had one primary.

“I guess.” Eric nodded. Zachriel finally turned to him. 

“It’s good to see my brother smile. They need each other I think...what happened in Heaven...it really hurt him. It would destroy anybody.”

“I could smell his blood the moment I stepped up here today.” Eric agreed, shifting uncomfortably as a raindrop landed on him, dripping from the tree above.

“Not just physically,  _ mentally _ . He’s not the same...I mean yes, he was anxious before. But now? That’s all he is.” 

“A little too soon.” Eric repeated, glancing back at Zachriel whose countenance was sad once more. 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s too soon to know how hard it was on him. Yeah, it probably traumatized him pretty badly. But look at them up there now.” 

The Cherub flicked his gaze back to the angel-demon pair on the Gate. Their shoulders were touching now as they tried to stay out of the rain which was getting progressively heavier. 

“We’ve been watching them since they met, and it’s as you said, they’ve both been fond of each other since the beginning. Even with the way he’s hurting...he’s smiled at least five times up there already.” 

“Hard to tell from this angle.” Zachriel retorted to which Eric rolled his eyes. 

“I thought my lot was negative.”

They were silent again, as a flurry of movement called their watchful eyes back to the duo. Crawly was pulling Aziraphale’s wrist, urging the angel to make a run for it with him. The angel gave in, their wings flitting them off the Gate and down to the muddy earth. The demon continued running with the angel’s wrist in his hand, flinging both himself and Aziraphale into the growth where they’d be sheltered from the pouring rain. Even with the sound of crashing water against the Earth’s surface, their laughter was audible from where the other angel-demon pair stood. 

“Our work is done... _ for now _ .” Zachriel smiled, to which Eric nodded. 

\-------------------------------------------------

Principality Aziraphale

“Crawly, what are you doing?” Aziraphale chuckled nervously as the demon grabbed his wrist. 

“It’s only going to get heavier from here. We should seek shelter.” Crawly insisted, giving the angel’s wrist a tug as he backed towards the edge of the wall.   
“I--” the angel began, “where? What about the humans?” 

“Let’s go! What’s the hold up?” The demon ignored him. Aziraphale’s wings spread out as they jumped from the wall, glad of Crawly’s support. He wasn’t used to flying without feeling his other pair of wings--whether manifested or in the ethereal realm didn’t matter. He let out a surprised squeal when his feet made contact with the mud, surprised at how strange the texture felt. The demon took off, pulling the angel into the undergrowth with him. Aziraphale giggled when Crawly slipped in the murky mud and fell over, the demon letting out a puff as his newfound friend fell on top of him. Soon Crawly was laughing too, gently pushing the angel off as he sat up. 

“Under those rocks.” The serpent demon said gently, nodding his head in the direction of the spot. Aziraphale nodded and followed him as they crawled over to the tree. The angel performed a small miracle, clearing the pair of mud and dampness as they sat in the dry spot. Crawly  _ would _ thank him. But he  _ was _ a demon after all.

“That’s a lot better.” Is what Crawly said instead. Aziraphale nodded, significantly happier than he had been when they first spoke. 

“I’m glad it’s warm here, otherwise that might’ve been a lot more miserable.” Aziraphale confessed, drawing his knees to his chest. Crawly mirrored his position, scooting close to the angel so that they touched. Their heat blended pleasantly together within the tight space they had underneath the smooth rocks. 

“Have you ever slept, Aziraphale?” Crawly asked, feeling somewhat tired himself. Though he had just woken up from a nap, he wanted to savour the peace he had on Earth while he still could. And sleeping, to him, was one of the most peaceful activities he could partake in. 

“No, I don’t believe so. Is it enjoyable?” 

“ _ Very _ .” Crawly nodded, using his temptation voice, “why don’t you find out? Here with me?”

Aziraphale should say ‘ _ there’s no way I would sleep beside a demon--I can’t trust you not to fool around while I’m vulnerable’ _ , but he didn’t. He was already vulnerable and hurting. Crawly was friendly, despite being a demon. And there was nothing he could do at this point that would bring him lower than... **_one. One Principality_ ** . 

“Well there’s not much else to do,” Aziraphale huffed, “so I might as well take you up on your offer.” 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Principality Aziraphale

Aziraphale woke up shivering and crying. He did not like sleep. Sleep brought back memories from when he was  **_Four_ ** . From when  **_Four became One_ ** . The missing arms and wings. 

His head was planted in something warm, raising and falling at a slow pace. A slow, rhythmic pumping was audible beneath in his ears. He was glad he hadn’t woken Crawly...glad he had Crawly. Realization dawned on him, Micheal’s words echoing in his head. 

**_A friendless and indefinite assignment to Earth._ ** He was alone, save for this demon right now. Humans would die eventually, so getting too familiar with individuals was out of the question. Gabriel would only visit sometimes. But Crawly was on the same assignment as Aziraphale by some amazing coincidence. 

The demon slept peacefully, his head resting against the angel’s soft curls. Aziraphale didn’t move, finding his own peace in just sitting there, nuzzled up against Crawly. The intimacy felt precious and fragile, impermanent. Aziraphale wanted it to be permanent. But being from opposing sides made that a luxury that neither Crawly nor Aziraphale could afford.

An hour went by before Aziraphale gently moved and shook Crawly’s shoulder carefully. Slitted eyes met his, cloudy with drowsiness. A yawn, revealing sharp canines, and then a smile. 

“Hello, angel.” 

“Angel?” Aziraphale’s brow raised. 

“That’s what you are, right?” 

“Yes, but...my name is Aziraphale.” 

“I know,” Crawly’s smile grew, he leaned forward so their faces were close. It was a lot different when they were both human-shaped than when he was snake-shaped, “but nicknames are fun. Though I’ve been clobbered for using them in Hell on a couple of other demons...you won’t do that, right?”

Aziraphale softened at the sight of Crawly’s beautiful yellow eyes. 

“No, I won’t. If you wish, out of  _ fun _ rather than  _ disdain _ , to call me  _ angel _ , then I suppose I don’t mind.”

“Deal.” Crawly chuckled, holding his hand out for Aziraphale to shake. The angel smiled and took it. 

“Deal with the Devil?”

“No.” The garden-variety demon laughed, “lucky for you, I’m not.”

The two looked out into the Garden at the sunny weather and decided to walk into it, pleasantly surprised by it’s warmth. The way it had been before the rains, though a breeze swept lightly through it, chilling the bare-feet of the angel and the demon. 

“I have to close the gate. But I haven’t received an order from Heaven to do anything yet...will you be around when I come back this way?” 

“Should be,” the demon nodded, “haven’t gotten any orders yet myself.” 

“I’ll be back then.” Aziraphale replied, clasping his hands together as he walked back in the direction of the ‘gate’. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Serpent Demon Crawly

Aziraphale came back shaking. God had asked him where he put his sword, and he  _ lied _ to  _ Her _ directly. 

“Everything alright?” Crawly asked, lounged casually against a tree. Aziraphale nodded quickly, unbeknownst to him that the demon could sense lies. Crawly figured it would work out in his favor to keep that detail a secret. It would make his relationship with the angel more... _ interesting _ . Considering the angel seemed to have a tendency to lie, and that fascinated him. 

“Your wings could use some preening. Want me to help you out with that?” Crawly suggested, gesturing to the stressed mess of wings trailing behind Aziraphale. The angel looked at him with a startled expression, hands wringing together quickly. 

“Um...I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Aziraphale said shakily. Crawly regarded him with a fake pout. 

“Aw, why not? C’mon it’s a free wing cleaning. If you feel particularly virtuous, you can reciprocate and preen mine.”

“Uh...well…”

“Don’t have to do that bit if you don’t want to though.” Crawly shrugged, sauntering forward and towards the angel. The demon’s eyes were gentle and soft, they were familiar. Even if they were snake-like, Aziraphale felt as if he had seen them before. The unfamiliar aspect was not the snake features, but the mischief that glinted behind them. 

“Why are you insistent on this?” Aziraphale asked suspiciously. Crawly shrugged again. 

“You seem stressed out, and you weren’t earlier. You’re better company when you’re relaxed.” 

Aziraphale felt a twinge of delight settle in his gut, genuinely touched by the demon’s statement. 

“Well...alright then. And yes, I’ll reciprocate the offer.” The angel nodded and turned away from the demon, sitting down on the warm grass in front of him. Crawly sat behind him, laying a careful hand on the left wing first. 

He felt their divinity, and missed Heaven. His pearly white wings, now an ashy black. The demon shook the feeling and focused on how messy they were--what made these wings distinctly Aziraphale and thus further away from Heaven. Not that Aziraphale wasn’t of Heaven, but he was  _ different _ . And Crawly liked that.

He combed a gentle hand through the soft feathers, scratching gently and soothingly along the way.

Aziraphale was still anxious. The last time an individual put their hands on his wings, it was to cut them off. That had been an agent of Heaven following Micheal’s order however. Crawly was gentle, and it was clear that in some strange way, he could trust him.

Crawly finished one wing and went through the other, anticipating Aziraphale’s reciprocation on the offer. The demon certainly didn’t allow other demons to touch his wings. And in Heaven it was the same way. He had mostly preened himself throughout his entire existence.

Finishing Aziraphale’s second wing, Crawly’s hands fell away and into his lap, admiring the work he had done. The wings were attractive, not to mention fluffy. And they belonged to a friendly angel with a perfect smile. Not a fake smile as was custom in Heaven--but a real smile. 

“Mm, thank you Crawly.” Aziraphale flashed that exact smile to the demon, prompting Crawly to blush and smile slightly in turn. Something about his name in the angel’s mouth made the fire in his heart burn stronger than ever. 

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Crawly asked, careful not to lose his cool.

“Yes, it’s wonderful. I suppose it’s your turn then.” Aziraphale said with a glance to Crawly’s wings. The demon felt a little sheepish about his blackened wings by comparison, and kept his head low as Aziraphale rounded him. 

“Hm…” Aziraphale hummed, getting settled. When the angel’s plump hands met Crawly’s wing, the demon shivered in delight. 

“Is everything quite alright?” Aziraphale asked, retracting his hand. 

“Yes.” Crawly responded quietly. 

Aziraphale brushed all the ash and soot away with his fingers, scratching anything friable or crumbly away from the feathers which made them gleam as if they had been polished. He lightly tugged away at any loose feathers and straightened everything relatively quickly. Aziraphale was used to preening other angels, and the job didn’t take him as long as Crawly. The demon was happy he hadn’t made any effort to preen that week. 

“Beautiful…” Aziraphale murmured, running his hand over a primary tenderly. Crawly blushed heavily, heat rising to his face, ears, and heart. 

_ Beautiful? Me? Is he talking about me? _

“Ngk...thanks, angel.”

“Of course. Just reciprocating the offer I suppose, nothing wrong here!” Aziraphale insisted enthusiastically, a trace of anxiety returning to his tone. Crawly turned to look back at Aziraphale, with an eyebrow shifted upwards.

“Er...just don’t thank me. I’m already in enough trouble with Heaven as it is.” Aziraphale insisted, Crawly grinned in response.

“Okay then. What do you want to do now?” The demon asked. Aziraphale looked embarrassed. 

“I don’t quite know...I do hope nobody catches me with you…” 

Crawly looked at him in mock-offense, hand up to his chest. Aziraphale chuckled a little bit at the sight. 

“We’ve been chatting for awhile and you never worried about it before. C’mon, don’t worry about it. Let’s go for a walk.” 

Crawly stood up and offered the angel his hand, which he took. 

_ He’s soft… _ Crawly thought to himself, staring in Aziraphale’s eyes as the angel stood up. Aziraphale offered him a smile that shot straight through his demonic heart.

“I hope you’re right.” Aziraphale replied hesitantly. Crawly looked down at the angel’s hands and felt embarrassed when he saw they were soot-stained. 

“You might want to wash those in the stream before you get carried away…” 

Aziraphale examined his hands, seemingly unbothered by it...much to Crawly’s relief. Crawly wasn’t necessarily ashamed of being a demon (though he never wanted to actually Fall), he was more ashamed of any rejection he might face from the angel as a result of it. 

“Let’s walk there then.” Aziraphale said, his smile never faltering.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	5. The Mortal Storm (3004 B.C.)

Principality Aziraphale

Aziraphale looked around at the crowds of animals gathered below, biting his lip contemplatively. His demonic partner in crime was nowhere to be found. Hopefully the serpent had listened to Aziraphale’s advice and went back to Hell to wait out the storm. Or was lurking nearby somewhere, which could be good or bad. Angels were working everywhere, and while Aziraphale would have loved Crawly’s company, it was probably for the best that he wasn’t here.

“Principality Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate.”

Aziraphale smiled. Aside from the humans, for a thousand years he had only seen Crawly. He and the demon traveled around a lot, doing their respective assignments and preceding to report their findings to each other on human progress. Finally, after a thousand years, he was met with another angel. 

“The Archangel Gabriel.” Aziraphale greeted, turning to face him, “it’s been awhile, how is everything?” 

“Oh great,” Gabriel began, “would’ve checked in with you sooner but not a lot has been going on around here. _Heaven_ , however, is a different story.” 

“Yes, Heaven is quite busy isn’t it. All the time.” Aziraphale chuckled nervously which prompted Gabriel to nod.

“But now we have stuff to do here so...here we are.” Gabriel shrugged, gesturing to all the angels working nearby. 

“So just to confirm...it’s just Noah and his family and the wives, right? Well, and the animal pairs of course.” 

“Yep. Big storm, big flood. Then She’s going to put something nice up called a “rain bow” I guess. And She won’t do it again...oh yeah, I meant to ask you!” Gabriel exclaimed, putting his hands together contemplatively, “any problems with the opposition over the years?” 

Aziraphale blushed and shook his head awkwardly.

“I know they’ve been here causing some trouble here and there, but I’ve not had a...personal encounter with them. Naturally I would’ve written it in my reports if I did.” 

“Yes, none of them mentioned a smiting or unpleasant encounter. And the humans, have they started writing yet?”

“Oh it’s very interesting Gabriel, I wrote a bit about it in one of my reports. Cuneiform, it’s called. Very rudimentary, but promising for the development of the human race.” 

Gabriel laughed a bit and nodded, “was that the report with all the weird shapes drawn in it?”

“Yes!” Aziraphale nodded excitedly, “but it’s written on clay tablets. They haven’t really invented paper yet.”

“Well great, glad we cleared that up. I was having a hard time reading that report, the symbols were distracting.” Gabriel joked, patting Aziraphale on the back. The Principality nodded, watching an unfamiliar angel carry some small animal in their arms. 

“So uh...Aziraphale. Are you...hanging in there? Everything alright?” Gabriel asked him awkwardly. Aziraphale looked up at him in surprise. 

“Ehm...yes. I mean it can get a bit lonely, but the humans are _very_ interesting. So I have not only my work...but their progress to focus on.” Aziraphale insisted, nodding at the Archangel reassuringly. 

“Good, good.” Gabriel smiled, violet eyes meeting blue ones, “the uh...demotion injuries aren’t giving you any trouble?”

Aziraphale winced, ghost pains rippling violently though his back. Gabriel noticed this, his smile falling. 

“They hurt only on the ethereal plane. If I’m not thinking about it, it goes away.” Aziraphale explained, chuckling it off. Gabriel sighed and nodded slowly. 

“Well look, if you have any problems relating to that, write me a report and label it as ‘ _Urgent - Healing_ ’. I can get you into Heaven, have you examined by Raphael. Alright? I’m not sure what she can do about the eternal wounds other than soothe them a bit...but it’s something at least.” 

Aziraphale almost cried in joy. 

“Thank you, Gabriel. I’ll let you know if uh...I have any sort of problems.” The Principality nodded, clasping his hands together. 

“Alright Aziraphale. I’ve got work to do...you’d best get down there and onto the Ark. The floodwaters will discorporate you otherwise.” Gabriel advised, manifesting his wings. With a signature smile plastered on his face, he took off. 

Aziraphale took Gabriel’s advice and began treading downhill and towards the crowd of people. He detected a familiar smell of burning wood, but his searching eyes caught no sight of the demon. Had he turned around, he would have seen a familiar (albeit smaller) snake slithering after him, mischief glimmering in its eyes. The angel weaved through the crowd and to the front, a demonic serpent following closely behind him. 

“Hello, Azira _phale_.” The demon’s voice purred from behind him. It startled the angel.

“Crawly.” Aziraphale replied, taping a wooden post lightly in anxiousness. “Where did you come from? You weren’t here a second ago…”

“Snake form,” Crawly shrugged, “there are a lot of angels around here. Had to be careful, so as not to be smitten. I saw you talking to that bastard Gabriel.”

“Oh yes. He’s in charge of the Earth missions. Since there are so many of us down here right now, it’s only natural he would be too.” Aziraphale nodded. 

“I would think Micheal handles that kind of thing. Leader of the angels and all.”

“No...Michael ehm...made the Almighty a bit upset a little while ago. Gabriel took her place.”

“Mm, what’d she do?” Crawly chuckled, slitted eyes amused. 

“She...disgraced a Cherub...I’m afraid. Against the Almighty’s wishes. I can’t say much more than that though. It’s a really long story.” Aziraphale explained with a sigh. 

“Well you’ll have plenty of time to tell me on the Ark. And...speaking of the Almighty...did anyone from Heaven mention the Flaming Sword? How did that work out for you?” 

An uncomfortable weight settled in Aziraphale’s stomach as he thought of what to say to his demonic companion. 

“Er...the Almighty’s never actually mentioned it again…” The angel lied, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. To Aziraphale’s horror, Crawly’s toothy smile grew as soon as the lie came from his mouth. But the demon didn’t say anything, prompting a feeling of relief to wash over him. 

“Probably a good thing.” The demon relented, continuing to his next point. 

“What’s all this about? Build a big boat and fill it with a travelling zoo?” 

Aziraphale leaned forward to indulge Crawly’s questions, “from what I hear, God’s a bit tetchy. Wiping out the human race. Big storm.”  
Crawly raised an inquisitive brow, “all of them?” 

“Just uh, just the locals. I don’t believe the Almighty’s upset with the Chinese. Or the Native Americans. Or the Australians.”

“ _Yet_.” Crawly added. 

“And God’s not actually going to wipe out _all_ the locals. I mean, Noah, up there, his family, their sons, their wives...they’re all going to be fine.”

“But They’re drowning everybody else?” Crawly huffed, bobbing his head for dramatic effect. Aziraphale nodded, sucking on his upper lip anxiously. A group of both human and goat kids alike crossed in front of the crowd. The demon's eyes widened as he watched them and turned to his angelic friend with a look of discuss plastered all over his face. 

“Not the kids, you can’t _kill_ kids.” Crawly scowled. Aziraphale nodded again with a hum of noncommittal agreement. Crawly’s mouth dropped open in what Aziraphale assumed to be disgust or disdain.

Aziraphale's gut told him it was wrong. Crawly's expression told him it was wrong. But his brain reminded him of Heaven and what happens when angels are bad. His mind reminded him of the demotion, the pain, and the loneliness that came with the demotion. 

“Well, that’s more the kind of thing you’d expect my lot to do.” Crawly continued, his eyes searching the Ark analytically, brows furrowed in thought. 

“Yes, but when it’s done, the Almighty’s going to put up a new thing called a “Rain Bow” as a promise not to drown everyone again.” Aziraphale explained nervously. Crawly knew him well enough after a thousand years to know he was uncertain about it. The demon was still staring at him with his prying, serpentine, beautiful eyes. 

“How kind.” Crawly replied sarcastically. Aziraphale puffed his chest up preparing for his usual defense.

“You can’t judge the Almighty, Crawly. God’s plans are--”

“Are you going to say _ineffable_?” The demon interrupted with a roll of his eyes. Aziraphale quieted, reclasping his hands and rubbing his thumbs together.

“Possibly.” The angel finally muttered, eyes flitting around and away from Crawly.

“Oi, Shem!” The demon called loudly, startling Aziraphale into watching over his companion yet again, hoping none of the nearby angels could hear him.

“That unicorn’s gonna make a run for it!” Crawly pointed to the creature in question rather fruitlessly. Aziraphale sighed, relieved that the demon hadn’t decided to do anything asinine. The Principality had enough to be anxious about, and didn’t need his friend’s mischief to be added to the list. 

The unicorn ran off. No angel or human noticed Crawly aside from Aziraphale and the smiling human beside them. Apparently the human found it funny and was chuckling lightly.

“Oh it’s too late... _It’s too late!_ Well it’s ok, you’ve still got one of them.”

It began to rain, cold and heavy. Aziraphale regained his composure and looked Crawly in the eyes. 

“They’re going to start boarding soon...as you know I’ll be on there, but you’d better get back to Hell before--”

“Nah,” Crawly interrupted again, “I said I was coming with you, didn’t I? I’ll just slither up your sleeve, and Noah will be none the wiser.”

Aziraphale regarded him with a curious glance before nodding in agreement with a false air of reluctance. It was when Aziraphale was distracted by the sight of animals being loaded onto the Ark that he felt a cold, twisting sensation on the skin of his arm. It made him jump, alarmed by the sudden intrusion. 

The snake hissed, though Aziraphale knew it was one of amusement. One that was supposed to be that terrible cackle Crawly derived from teasing the poor angel. If the serpent were humanoid, it would say something along the lines of: ‘ _c’mon angel, you know I’m just messing with you_ ’. But instead he got an affectionate squeeze.

The angel left the crowd of poor, dampened people. He tried to forget the guilt that plagued his thoughts. He walked across the clearing with a brisk pace. 

_Those people are condemned to die. Some of them have children. Some of them are innocent._

Aziraphale knew it wasn’t Crawly speaking to him. His mind’s voice had just decided to speak to him with the demon’s tone. Despite having this knowledge, he could feel scales shifting against his skin and a forked tongue against the shell of his ear. It tickled. 

“The _children_ , Aziraphale…” 

Aziraphale murmured an anxious noise that was supposed to be a knowing reply. He didn’t want to allow their deaths, but he had to. 

“I can’t interfere with the plan.”

“Pleasssee angel. Just one or two of them.” The serpent begged in genuine concern. “We can miracle them on board together. Noah will never notice--God will never notice.”

“You can’t know that, Crawly.” 

“Pleassse.” 

The angel turned around and looked at the crowd of people. The serpent’s head slithered into Aziraphale’s view, snake eyes searching humanoid ones. 

“Just _two_. A larger miracle will notify Head Office, and then we’ll both be in trouble.”

The serpent gave the equivalent of a nod as they reached out with their powers to save two little girls, hiding them snugly in a corner of the Ark. Crawly cursed it, so Noah would not approach their corner. Aziraphale blessed the girls to be safe through the storm. 

“There.” Aziraphale sighed, “now hide yourself. We have to board.”

The serpent gave him a squeeze. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Principality Aziraphale 

“You must be quiet, my dear children.” Aziraphale said in the most gentle, ‘ _Do not fear me, for I am an Angel of the Lord’_ voice he could manage. 

The chestnut brown eyes of the girls were wide in wonder. It reminded Aziraphale vaguely of Eve and the conversations he had with her in the Garden. 

“Hungry.” One of them whispered to Aziraphale, reaching up and touching the angel’s hair in disbelief. 

“Do not worry. My friend will soon return with food to fill your bellies."

“Is he an angel too?” The smaller one squeaked. Aziraphale chuckled lovingly, stroking their heads comfortingly. 

“In a way, I suppose. He’s a snake.” 

The girls exchanged glances of fear. Aziraphale shook his head, laughing softly. 

“He’s a friendly snake, my dears. Some snakes are venomous and dangerous whilst others will do you no harm.”

As if on cue, a snake slithered to their corner, a small parcel in tow. 

“Are you a friendly snake-angel?” The larger child asked cautiously. Crawly gave the serpent equivalent of a snort and dropped the parcel of food from his jaws and in front of the children. The smaller one reached out bravely and patted the snake’s nose. 

“Good snakey.” 

Aziraphale covered his mouth to suppress a laugh. Crawly shifted into his human shape, black wings extending from his back. 

“You _are_ an angel. Snake-angel.” The larger girl smiled, reaching for Crawly’s hair and stroking it gently. Crawly rolled his eyes affectionately. 

“ _Fallen_ angel.” He replied. The girls weren’t listening, as they were now ravenously consuming the food Crawly had stolen for them. The two ‘angels’ leaned against the wall next to each other, watching the children in fondness and curiosity as they ate. 

“What would your lot do if they found them on the Ark?” Crawly asked him in a low and quiet voice.

“They would...I would like to believe they’d make an exception for these two. I would probably be reprimanded.” 

Crawly grimaced. 

“I tend to think they’d throw them overboard...how would they reprimand you?” 

“Either I would be temporarily stripped of the ability to perform miracles...or Solitary Confinement.” 

“Let’s hope it’s the former, should it come to that. If you can’t perform miracles for awhile, you can just stick with me.”

Aziraphale offered him a small smile, “anything is better than Solitary Confinement.” 

Crawly nodded in knowing agreement. 

When the children went to sleep, Aziraphale and Crawly lay with them, promising to watch over them while they slept. Naturally Crawly ended up falling asleep with them. Aziraphale was alone in listening to the creaking of the ship, the dull drone of animal cries, and the sleep-riddled murmurs of his young companions. Crawly’s gentle (but very graceless) snoring.

Aziraphale felt like he was **_Four_** again, just for a moment. The larger girl was the Eagle, the smaller girl was the Ox, and Crawly was the Lion. But soon he had to remember that he was **_One_**. He would never be **_Four_** ever again. 

Sooner or later, one always had to wake up.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Principality Aziraphale

Aziraphale stood alone, his bare feet buried in the damp sand. At some point or another, the wet Earth had pulled the shoes off his feet and claimed them for itself. He felt an emptiness building inside him as he stared out into the murky distance, everything soaked through. A dull layer of fog dimly covered the ground and every small thing on top of it.

 **_One. One. One. Principality Aziraphale_ **. 

“Hello Aziraphale.” 

Now _that_ was a voice he hadn’t heard in at least a millenia.

“Sandalphon,” Aziraphale replied, the mud sucking at his feet as he turned around to face the Archangel, “it’s been...quite awhile, really. How have you been?”

“Oh _fine_.” The portly angel replied, teeth bared in what Aziraphale could only surmise to be a smile. “We’ve gotten word of...trouble around here. Gabriel is swamped with reports. All of the angelic activity down here lately. So I’m here in his place.” 

“Trouble?” Aziraphale’s emptiness morphed into sudden anxiety, “whatever do you mean, my dear fellow?”

“Some of the angels who have recently been down here report two accidents. Little girls? They’re being accompanied by a demon apparently. And it wouldn’t have been possible for the two of them to survive unless they were on the Ark. You were on the Ark the entire time.” Sandalphon explained. Despite being shorter than Aziraphale, the Principality felt as if he was being stared down by a predator.

“Must’ve been the demon’s work,” Aziraphale stuttered, “I really didn’t see anything untoward on the Ark.”

“Be that as it may.” Sandalphon took a few steps forward, getting uncomfortably close to Aziraphale. The Archangel stared up at him, Aziraphale feeling small under his gaze. 

“The children and the demon must be taken care of, _disgraced_ Cherub. Smite the foe and dispose of the accidents. You face reprimand if they are not taken care of soon.” 

“Dispose of the _a-accidents_ ? I cannot, in good conscience, _murder_ children! It’s against everything I stand for-- _we_ stand for.” 

“I will come back in two day’s time. If they’re not taken care of, we will take matters into our own hands. And then you will be placed in Solitary Confinement.” 

“But I--” Aziraphale blinked and Sandalphon had disappeared. 

Pent up despair released itself within him, and soon he found himself gasping desperately for air. Tears slid down his face as he ripped feathers from his wings, dirt and blood staining his white robes.

He was alone in the mud, drowning in it. He couldn’t kill children, not himself. He couldn’t smite Crawly either...his dear friend. The only other creature on Earth who truly cared about him.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Archangel Gabriel

Gabriel sighed, shoving papers aside. He really should have an assistant to read all these. A knock sounded at the door, a bored and lifeless tone behind it.   
“Can I come in?” 

Angels had been knocking and shouting outside his office all day, and it was starting to get on his nerves. He didn’t know who it was (most angels had a more energetic tone to their voice), but either way he had no time for them. 

“I’m busy, come back later please.” Gabriel huffed, not bothering to mask his displeasure. 

Another report miracled onto his desk. Gabriel sighed, air hissing out of his teeth.

“It’zzz me.” The voice persisted, startling Gabriel. The Archangel took another look at the report on his desk and saw it was a smudged paper, smelling strongly of brimstone. Gabriel stood up quickly to open the door, slamming it behind the disguised demon as they came in. 

“Beelzebub--you _cannot_ just walk into Heaven whenever you like. You know this.” Gabriel chided, gesturing irately to the sofa beside his desk. Beelzebub sat down, disguise fading away. They sunk into the sofa, incredibly poor posture. 

“That’s a report from Hastur, read it.” Beelzebub commanded, voice more irritated than normal. Gabriel threw his hands up at the blatant disregard for his warning and sat down once more, opening the foul smelling report. His eyes darted over it, skimming the main points. 

“Remind me again why he’s the _Duke_ of Hell. This is ridiculous.” Gabriel grumbled, crumpling the paper up and throwing it to Beelzebub. The Prince of Hell set fire to it, crumbling it to ashes over the wastebasket. 

“All of the reports lately have been absolutely _rubbish._ It’zzz sickening.” Beelzebub ranted.

“Same here,” Gabriel nodded, gesturing to the mess on his desk. “All of this is worthless and none of it is to the point. _Apparently_ a few humans survived the flood, so I had to send an angel down there a couple of weeks ago to take care of that too. It’s a mess, all of it.”

“Weren’t a few humanzzz _supposed_ to survive the flood?”

“Yes, but not these ones.”

“Oh,” Beelzebub nodded with a snigger, “that’s the fault of a snake demon named Crawly. Thought it would be interesting to have a few kidzz survive just to mess with your lot.” 

“Well I told Archangel Sandalphon to take care of it, and you know what he does? He puts it on another angel. Principality named Aziraphale. And I’m like ‘no I sent _you_ down there to take care of it, not to order Aziraphale around. All Aziraphale had to do with it was to give any information he had on the topic.’--and he didn’t seem too concerned. I swear, the guy says he’ll do everything and does nothing.”

Beelzebub looked contemplative. 

“That’s all they do in Hell. Shove work on other demons. Not much you can do about it other than to throw ‘em in Hellfire for a little while.” 

“Well angels aren’t supposed to do that. Not at all.” Gabriel sighed, standing up to shove a pile of finished reports into his filing cabinets.

“Your boss has been angry lately, how’zz that working out?” 

“Not well. How about yours?”

“He’s quite happy about God being upset, as izz expected.” 

“Yeah well...I can see it hasn’t lightened your workload.” Gabriel said, motioning to the wastepaper basket. 

“Nothing lightens my workload,” Beelzebub buzzed, “it’s Hell. There’s alwayzz some sniveling cretin handing me garbage.”

“Right. Well, if it makes you feel any better, the angels have been the same lately. The only good reports are from Earth. The Heavenly reports are all the same trash.”  
“It does make me feel better.” Beelzebub hummed with demonic amusement. Gabriel resumed his seat, hands clapped together.

“You really should just send me a memo or call me next time you want to have a little chat. I’m surprised no one smelled your evil on the way here.” 

“Hell’s boring and Earth’s a nightmare right now.” Beelzebub shrugged, fiddling with the smeared black nail polish on their fingers. 

“By the way, you did a horrible job with your nails. How did you even do them so badly?”

“That’zz the point. Horrible job. I did them during a worthless meeting with Dagon and the Dukes.” Beelzebub mused with a dull tone.

“You could let me do it next time.” Gabriel suggested with a disgusted look at the paint staining Beelzebub’s nails and skin 

“Really? You? I can’t imagine you doing anything so meaningless.” 

“One step closer to cleanliness. And cleanliness is Godliness.”

“Of course.” Beelzebub scoffed, rolling their eyes. 

“But next time will be on Earth. I’m serious, you can’t just casually stroll into Heaven. I don’t walk straight into Hell--it’s just not a very courteous thing to do.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll give you a call or something and we can meet in Egypt or wherever.”

Another knock sounded at Gabriel’s door, startling the angelic and demonic bosses. 

“ _What_?” Gabriel shouted, having finally had enough of people bothering him for the day. Beelzebub sneered in amusement at the angel’s irritation. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but there’s an angel who has been in Solitary Confinement for a few weeks now and I was wondering if he should be let out. 

Gabriel’s face fell into one of confusion, “under whose authority?” 

“That would be the Archangel Sandalphon.”

“Um...who’s in Solitary?”

“The Principality Aziraphale.” 

Gabriel groaned, slapping a hand over his face. He should’ve known. Sandalphon enjoyed threatening angels from the lower sphere with Solitary Confinement. Generally it was acceptable. If an angel did a banged-up job on something, then maybe a reprimand was in order. But Aziraphale was being punished for something Sandalphon was initially supposed to do. And Gabriel found that to be incredibly irritating, as if he wasn’t already irritated enough. The Archangel strode over to the door, cracking it open enough to look at the lower angel standing outside it. 

“Tell Sandalphon to get his ass back to Earth and take care of the job I gave him. As for Aziraphale--he’s off the hook. Keep the confinement wing unlocked, I’ll be down to get him in a moment.” 

The lower angel departed quickly. Gabriel turned to the Lord of the Flies. 

“You should get yourself back downstairs. Walk with me, it’s safer.” Gabriel proposed. An angelic appearance fogged like a blanket over Beelzebub and the two of them walked out towards the confinement wing. It was a good disguise, as was expected of a higher level demon. But it couldn’t fool an angel from the highest sphere. Any Archangel, Seraph, Cherub, or Throne would see through it. 

Gabriel hadn’t factored Aziraphale into that equation which turned out to be a mistake. Aziraphale was once a Cherub. No matter how much power you stripped away from him, he was still the angel he was created to be.

“D-demon!” Aziraphale exclaimed, pressing himself further into the corner he was sitting in. He pointed shakily at Beelzebub, who exchanged glances with Gabriel. 

“Aziraphale? You’ve been in here for weeks, I’m sorry to say but _they’re_ not a demon...I’m sure your head is messing with you.” Gabriel huffed, Beelzebub trying to mimic Heaven’s signature smile. It looked funny on their face, even with the disguise of an angel. 

“I-um...I do-don’t know.” The angel shuddered, pulling his wings over his knees. Gabriel frowned at the blood stained into the white feathers. 

“Hey um...do you...do you need to see Raphael? Your wings don’t look too good.” Gabriel asked him, awkwardly flitting his eyes to the bloodied feather throughout the small space.

“He looks like he’s been tortured...well, he’d fit in with us, then.” Beelzebub mumbled suggestively. 

“Zip it.” Gabriel hissed at them before walking into the cell. “Aziraphale, what say you?” 

“I’d…” the angel began with a hesitant glance at the disguised demon, “I'd rather not. Earth duty calls…”

“I think you ought to see Raphael.” Gabriel began turning back towards Beelzebub, “what do you think?” 

“I wouldn’t go back to Earth looking like that.” Beelzebub uttered with an unimpressed look on their face and a nod of noncommittal agreement. 

“Then...I suppose I must. If it’s not a problem.”

“It’s not.” Gabriel nodded. He walked outside of the cell and pressed a red call button. Aziraphale watched the pair of them warily, his hands wringing together slowly. 

“Hello? What seems to be the problem?” An office clerk answered. 

“Yeah, uh hi...it’s Gabriel. Listen, can you have Raphael come down to Confinement Room B-17? The Principality Aziraphale needs to be looked at.”

“I’ll get on it.”

“Right, let me know when he’s on his way.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Principality Aziraphale

Aziraphale stared at the angel accompanying Gabriel. They _looked_ like an angel. But everytime Aziraphale looked inside them, he saw a broken halo shaped like horns. That was a demon halo, not an angel halo. Darkness emanated from their essence. 

Was it possible to become a demon without Falling? Was it possible to Fall and still be an angel of Heaven? 

He might’ve said that about Crawly if he hadn’t already seen inside the demon. Crawly’s essence was dark, like this one. Crawly had a horned halo. Definitely a demon. 

_Crawly_ . Aziraphale came to a horrible realization, _Sandalphon went to smite him!_

The angel sincerely hoped Crawly had been able to avoid discorporation. In the meantime he had other issues to deal with. The call button rang, and the office clerk from before informed Gabriel that Raphael was on his way.

It didn’t take long for her to arrive.

“Hello Gabriel, um…”

“My associate.” Gabriel nodded to Raphael with a suggestive smile, “the real problem is in there.”

The Archangel with flame coloured hair stepped carefully into the confinement room, appearance reminding him of Crawly. That was a comforting thought. Heaven was unfamiliar to him after a thousand years of Earth...and something vaguely familiar (Gabriel aside) was welcomed. Raphael was not Crawly, however. Her hair was a lighter shade of red and her eyes light green. Pleasant freckles dotted her face like dandelion fuzz landing carefully in a patch of grass. 

“Oh you poor thing…” Raphael began, kneeling down in front of Aziraphale, “I wish I could’ve seen you sooner. The demotion warranted some treatment...and I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to give it to you.”

Aziraphale flinched at the word **_demotion_ **. Raphael seemed to recognize this and put a careful hand out for Aziraphale to take. The Principality took it, a hesitant glance to the doorway where Gabriel and his companion were standing. 

But they had left. It was just Raphael and Aziraphale. 

“Let’s go to my office, hm? Feathers don’t come out that way naturally...I think we need to talk.”

The Archangel miracled the pair into her warm office room (one of the warmest places in Heaven), gesturing for him to sit on a cozy sofa. Aziraphale did, wings hanging awkwardly over the back as he did. Raphael left the room and returned with a fuzzy blanket. Aziraphale would surmise it to be animal skins, were they not in Heaven.

“The politics of Heaven haven’t been kind to you, have they?” She asked, wrapping the blanket carefully around the lesser angel. Aziraphale looked up at her with tears in his eyes. 

“Gabriel’s been nice…at least. His friend was a demon--”

“It’s just politics, don’t worry. Some of us have friends in low places and I tend to think...many of us haven’t really recovered from the War...and all of the Falling.”

Aziraphale thought of Crawly. His dear friend, possibly discorporated. 

“Gabriel can be a prick. But I know...he feels somewhat responsible for what happened to you. He actually came to my office to...talk about his _feelings_ on the subject matter. Imagine that!” Raphael chuckled softly, “so I’m glad he’s been friendly to you.”

Aziraphale thought of how sympathetic Gabriel had tried to be after he became **_One_ **. He gave Raphael a quick nod, daring to meet her searching green eyes. 

“You’re in better condition than I thought you’d be, if I’m being brutally honest. Has Earth been well for you?”

Aziraphale owed it to Crawly. 

“Y-yes...the humans are so lovely...aside from the parts of them that aren’t. B-but...said parts are easily overlooked when you see the things they’re capable of.” the Principality responded honestly, though he had Crawly in mind.

“So...I have to ask it. And I know it won’t be comfortable for you to answer. But...why are you pulling your feathers out? And don’t try to say you haven’t been, I’ve seen this before. Angels feather-plucking due to stress and anxiety. Usually it’s angels from the lower sphere, which is quite unfortunate. I say you poor dears should just have a strike and demand better treatment but...there might be a second schism. And us Archangels really are quite busy, that’d be a nightmare to deal with for all concerned parties.” 

Aziraphale felt hot shame and reached a tentative hand to his right wing. Raphael sensed this and her eyebrows turned upwards in concern. 

“It’s alright Aziraphale, you’re safe here.”

“No...I’m safe on Earth…” he mumbled, stroking his wings and restraining himself from plucking. Not right in front of the Angel of Healing, that would be a nightmare for both of them.

“You’re safe with _me_.”

“But if Michael--”

“Firstly, Michael isn’t in charge anymore. Secondly, if she comes pounding on my door, I’ll turn her away. It’s just us, Aziraphale.” 

Aziraphale sniffed miserably. He wanted Earth and all of it’s welcoming (as well as not-so-welcoming) delights.

“It helps me feel better.” Aziraphale said in a very small and soft tone. Raphael nodded. 

“The pain, it keeps you feeling things, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes,” Aziraphale nodded, “when I remember being **_Four_ ** I become empty. When I remember what happened...I become empty. When I remember that I’m **_One_ ** now.” 

“Are you referring to the heads you lost?”  
“I’m referring to everything. I had not only four heads, but four arms and four wings. Now I’ve got one head and a single pair of everything else.” The Principality explained, voice cracking. 

“Oh you poor dear...would you...would you like an embrace? It’s not exactly orthodox for angels to hug but…”

She offered her arms to him, and he took the embrace enthusiastically, sobbing wildly. 

“Shh, there’s a dear.” She said, her right hand warming up with a soothing miracle. She soothed his emotions and healed his wings, being one of the few angels who could heal the True Form. The _only_ angel who could do it properly. Generally the True Form healed itself, but it took a great amount of time. 

“I cannot heal the demotion wounds that continue to fester, neither mental nor in the True Form. Those are too deep and eternal for even my powers. But I can put your mind to rest and heal these simple wing injuries.” She explained before slowly letting him go. 

“Thank you…” He said, choked up. 

“Of course, it’s my job. My dear, Principality Aziraphale, it’s time to return to Earth.” 

Aziraphale allowed Raphael to lead him to the gateway to Earth. Gabriel waited there, contemplation written all over his face. He soon looked up at them, hearing their footsteps echo through the cold, empty halls. 

“Hey, so...how did that go?” Gabriel asked, placing one hand on Raphael’s left shoulder, the other on Aziraphale’s right. 

“He’s welcome back anytime to talk to me about anything.” Raphael replied. Aziraphale offered a small smile. 

“Given that we aren’t busy, but yes. Just write me in your reports Aziraphale, I’ll have you up here asap.” 

Aziraphale, much as he appreciated the offer and the session he had just had, would rather be on Earth.

“Right,” Aziraphale nodded, “but I should be getting back to Earth.” 

“I’ll be checking in at some point. Until then, see ya.”

“You’ll be in my prayers.” Raphael added. 

Aziraphale gave the pair of Archangels an hesitant glance before stepping into the gateway and back to Earth.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Principality Aziraphale

Aziraphale’s first course of action was to follow the familiar scent of burned wood and evil-that-wasn’t-really-evil. Crawly was still on Earth and apparently in the area, hence the smell. As he got closer to the scent, he could feel Crawly’s presence. 

There was blood and sadness mingled with it.

He found Crawly laying under a tree in the fetal position, his hands smeared with blood. The demon didn’t acknowledge his presence. 

“Crawly? What happened?” Aziraphale asked him, panicked. Crawly twitched a little bit and sat up, hair awry and in tangles.

“That _blasted_ Archangel killed them...the girls...Ishtar and Ereshkigal.”

He thought of Ishtar, the small one. She had a sweet and innocent smile. The stronger, older sister Ereshkigal whose eyes were intelligent and whose hair was wild and free. 

“No…” Aziraphale gasped, falling to his knees, “no that’s not right. They...they can’t be dead. They were...t-th-they were so young and…” 

“That _bastard_ killed them!” Crawly spat venomously. Aziraphale began crying again, hands running wildly through his fluffy hair. Guilt swelled in his chest a dropped into his stomach like...like a lead ballon. He would pluck his feathers to cope. But Crawly sat in front of him and he didn’t want to ruin Raphael’s work. He hadn’t thought Sandalphon had it in him to be so _cruel_. He didn't think any angel could commit such an atrocious act. 

“Where have you _been_ , Aziraphale?” Crawly hissed, snake eyes extending to his scleras. The angel sobbed, shame building in his chest. He had been held in Solitary while Ishtar and Ereshkigal were being murdered. Murdered for being survivors--for existing. They were innocents--though not seen as such for being accompanied by a demon likely. But the fact of the matter was, generally they were also accompanied by an angel. And he hadn’t been there.

He had been cozy in Raphael’s office while Crawly suffered. 

“I was stuck in Heaven...I was in Solitary, I couldn’t…I-I...I’m so-sorry, Crawly.” 

“Solitary? For _what_?” Crawly asked, though it seemed that the serpent realized it before the angel could reply. Aziraphale had said it himself while they were on the Ark. The demon softened, watching Aziraphale struggle to muster his words. 

“F-for…” 

Aziraphale tried to remember. His time spent in Solitary made his memory fuzzy. Then he had it again, not daring to look into Crawly’s expectant eyes. Even knowing the answer, he wanted to hear it from Aziraphale himself. 

“Refusing to murder them myself.”

Crawly sucked in a hiss of disdain, Aziraphale flinching at the thought of Crawly hating him. Inadequacy washed over him like cold, pouring rain. He fell forwards and towards Crawly, a stammering mess of shame. Serpentine eyes widened as Aziraphale unraveled in front of him. 

“Please d-d-on’t hate me Crawly...I’m sorry...I...I wasn’t there for them. F-for you…” 

“What--I-- _no_ ! I don’t hate you, angel." The demon sighed, his own voice faltering. "You couldn’t have helped if you were in _Solitary_ ...I’m just...the _girls_.” 

Aziraphale doubted that, there was _something_ he could have done wasn't there? 

Crawly leaned forward and pulled the angel into an embrace. The second embrace Aziraphale had received today. 

_How lucky am I?_ He thought bitterly. 

“I guess this is our punishment for paying too much personal attention to individual mortals.” Crawly sighed, rubbing the angel’s shoulder and pulling him from his intrusive thoughts. Aziraphale nodded, an arm weaved around the demon’s shoulder.

“It’s as you said. Can’t kill kids.” 

Crawly’s eyes met his, sadness reflected in them. 

“Look I...I know I said that. And I know I ask you all these pointed questions and...well. Try to make you doubt. That’s my nature, I’m a demon. But don’t doubt. Please don’t doubt. Because Falling is not pleasant, trust me.”

_Some of us have friends in low places and I tend to think...many of us haven’t really recovered from the War...and all of the Falling._

“Crawly?” Aziraphale asked, losing himself in those incredible yellow eyes. They made him forget his grief for the time being. 

“Yes, angel?” 

“You...you’re my friend. Right?” 

Crawly smiled softly, brows still arched in sorrow. 

“Yes Aziraphale, we’re friends. We shouldn’t be, but we are.” 

Aziraphale remembered the essence from Gabriel’s former companion. Raphael did more than just imply that what he had seen was truly a demon as he had thought. She had, in fact, implied that there were more than just a few angels with demonic counterparts. 

_If Gabriel can have a demon friend, then so can I._ Aziraphale thought bravely, squeezing Crawly to himself. The demon reciprocated a squeeze, as was custom in their friendship. One would do one thing, and the other would gladly reciprocate in kind.

“Y-you…” Aziraphale began, taking in the demon’s beautiful appearance. Crawly tilted his head to indicate he was listening. 

“Your hair is a mess. Ineffably so.” 

Crawly laughed, the last of his tears sliding down his face. Once he was finished guffawing (Aziraphale with a mild and nervous chuckle), he looked to his angelic partner fondly.

“Oh yea? My hair is an ineffable mess? How very kind of you to say.” 

“I didn’t mean it in a rude way! But...it’s true.”

“ _Nothing_ about that statement _wasn’t_ rude.” 

An angel and a demon watched the sunset, clouds finally relenting so that the star could be seen. So that it’s presence could be felt. And Crawly’s hair was being tended to.

It was as if the Almighty Herself had slowed down time for them to laugh and enjoy each other’s company, relinquishing their grief. She needed them to bond, after all.

  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


End file.
